


A New Purpose

by SootyOwl



Series: Eternal Guardian [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Destiny, Doomed Love, F/M, Founders, Guilt, Hogwarts, Muggles, Old Religion, Teaching, Wizards' Council, witch hunts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:26:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 196,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SootyOwl/pseuds/SootyOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel story for 'Ancient Relics'. Merlin has spent the three hundred years since Arthur's death hiding in the shadows waiting for the return of the Old Religion. Now, after a tragic event, he has found four unique individuals who may just be the ones he has been waiting for. The ones who can end his torturous immortality and restore the glory of Camelot. Founder's Era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waiting

**A/N:**   **Prequel for Ancient Relics**

* * *

 

**For those of you who have not read Ancient Relics, I think you still might be able to enjoy this story. AR was written before Series 5, so the ending in my head was slightly different than in the show. All you need to know is that the Battle of Camlan stuff happened when Arthur was a lot older and after he had long since accepted magic, and Merlin was trapped in the Crystal Cave the entire time, forced to watch it. Then, when Morgana came back to boast, he overpowered her and trapped her there instead. Kinda similar to the show I suppose since I obviously drew on the same legends they did. After Arthur died, the Old Religion declined and faded from the world, leaving Merlin the only one still able to use it to its full power. Now he's immortal, and waiting for the Old Religion to return to the world.**

* * *

 

**I've tried to make this fic as historically accurate as possible; I'm a History student at university and specialising in the early British Medieval period (well, Scottish Medieval actually, but close enough) but obviously, the show itself wasn't very accurate (tomatoes in Dark Ages Britain? Come on!) However, I don't want to bog it down with too much explanation.**

* * *

**Waiting**

Aching joints, headaches, hangover cures and farming injuries … those were all he had to occupy his time with these days. An endless stream of coughing children and wheezing old men begging him for remedies. He helped them of course, he couldn't turn them away, but still he couldn't help but think of a time long since past.

Had he once been the Court Sorcerer of Camelot? Had he once really been one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, sitting at the right hand of King Arthur himself? There were days when he thought all of that must just have been a dream.

Merlin Emrys, the one who was supposed to lead the lands of Albion into a new era. Now the Once and Future King was dead by Merlin's neglect, and the lands over which he had ruled were now fallen into darkness. Magic was once again something to be feared.

It pained him more than he could say. After all the hard work he and Arthur had done over all those years to make Camelot a place of tolerance and peace, it was all for nothing. Arthur's death had shook the kingdom down to its very core, and magic became oppressed once more.

Queen Guinevere and the remaining Knights of the Round Table had attempted to keep the peace as best as they could, but it did not last. They grew old, and they died, and without an heir to the kingdom, Camelot had fallen into ruin.

Merlin had watched it all happen. He stayed the same, never ageing, watching as each of his friends withered away. Guinevere had begged him with her dying breath to look after the kingdom, to never give up in keeping magic alive and welcomed. He had failed her. Barely a century later, and the former lands of Albion were ruled by ruthless warlords, and magic was a crime punishable by death once more.

Sorcerers went underground, and the Old Religion faded. Now they used strips of wood to cast spells, a weak form of magic that Merlin regarded with contempt. Was this what his people had been reduced to? Why had he allowed this to happen?

He was only one man. He hadn't been able to stop the flow of time.

The lands changed dramatically, and soon there was little left of the world of Merlin's youth.

He had lingered on, watching it all. Was this his punishment for failing to protect Arthur? To remain here until the world itself ended, doomed to live the lives of many men whilst unable to grow old and die as well? It was a cruel fate, but one that he deserved.

He had to survive, however painful such an existence would be. One day, magic would return. He had to have faith in that. One day, he could redeem himself, make up for the mistakes of his past. He could reverse the evil that Morgana had done to this realm.

But how much longer would he have to wait? Already three hundred years had passed since Arthur's death, and his name had already passed into legend. How much longer would he continue in this meaningless existence until he would be needed again?

* * *

 

"Emrys?"

Merlin looked up, jerked out of his ruminations with a jolt. Standing in the doorway of his home was one of the villagers. He had a blood-stained rag bound around his arm.

"What did you do this time, Beorn?" Merlin asked with a gentle sigh, lifting himself up from his chair before the fire.

"Dropped a scythe," Beorn grunted. "Can you help?"

Merlin nodded, and fixed a small smile on his face. "Of course. Come over here into the light."

"Thank you, Emrys."

_Emrys._ The name of his true self, the name uttered in the legends of the Druids. No one really knew about those any more, none of them associated it with him. Muggles were blissfully unaware of the history of magic. It was much easier to hide among them than other wizards.

Merlin moved over to a small table by the window where he did his work. His home was small, with only two rooms, a bedroom, and one where almost everything else was. Rather like his old home in Camelot, this room served as a kitchen, living area and workshop. It was cramped, but it served his needs.

A physician's work suited him best. Physicians were always welcome in villages, no one questioned him living alone and the money was good- there was never a shortage of ailments to deal with, however repetitive a life it was. He wouldn't live here past fifteen years anyway. He'd learned over the centuries that fifteen years was the longest amount of time he could go without people noticing his eternal youth and getting suspicious. Using an Ageing Spell everyday was just too tiresome.

Beorn extended his arm, and Merlin carefully unwrapped the crude bandages. Merlin examined the injury.

"You're lucky, this isn't too deep."

He gently washed the wound and bound it tightly with clean rags. He reached up to one of his many shelves and brought down a small bottle.

"Here," he said, giving it to him. "Bathe the wound in a solution of this every night and change the dressings. Come and see me in a week to check on it. Don't use that arm in the meantime."

Beorn scowled. "But I need to get the harvest in."

"Then I suggest you either hire some village boys to help or learn to use your other hand," said Merlin firmly. "If that wound gets infected or you aggravate it further you may lose the arm."

This wasn't entirely true, but Merlin was sick of the man's stubbornness. This was the fourth injury in a month; Beorn seemed to be collecting scars on purpose. Merlin often wondered whether he had some sort of wager with another man in the tavern.

Beorn grudgingly nodded, and put the bottle in his pocket. He reached into a small pouch at his belt. "Will this cover it?"

Merlin took the proffered coins and nodded. "Until next time, then."

Beorn grunted and stomped over to the door again and into the street without a word. Merlin moved back to his chair by the fire and sighed. It wasn't exactly thrilling work, but at least he was managing to survive.

He examined the coins in his hand. He could have healed Beorn's arm with one spell, without even leaving a scar if he had so wanted. But if he had … well, he'd soon find himself tied to a stake.

Had people really forgotten the good that magic could do? Had everything really been in vain?

Would life be more fulfilling if he lived and worked with other wizards? He often considered it, but always rejected the idea. There was too much of a risk that they'd find out who he was, even normal magic couldn't explain away his immortality. And besides, seeing the pathetic magic that people in the modern day had been reduced to using with their  _sticks_  would only pain him; would only remind him of what had been.

Merlin rarely used magic these days, at least, magic more powerful than what it took to light a candle or clean his home. It was too risky, and he feared that one day his magic would just fade away from underuse. He had a wand, bought about a century ago in some attempt to understand the craze for these sticks, but still he'd been baffled. He used it when in company with other wizards, but he detested it. He'd used scales from Aithusa and Kilgharrah in making it, but even that hadn't enhanced its power too much. They'd laughed at him for trying to fit in with modern wizards, saying all he had to do was wait until the right moment in the future. They drove him to the brink of insanity with these stupid riddles, and he didn't see them often.

He missed it so badly he wanted to burst. To be able to use  _magic._ Not this silly replacement wizards had found now. To be able to use it openly and without fear.

But he lived in a village full of Muggles. They wouldn't exactly welcome him with open arms. Most of them were friendly enough, but they were all united in their distrust of magic. There were no sympathisers here.

Or so he thought.

There was one aspect of this village that still intrigued him. It was a fairly average town by Muggle standards. A collection of ramshackle houses and shops surrounding one main street, with farmland on one side and a great stretch of boggy fen on the other. But there was a hill at the head of the town, about three miles away but seeming closer due to its size. Upon that hill was a magnificent castle where the owners of the estate lived and to whom the villagers paid their taxes.

It was a family of wizards.

This alone had been one of the things that had attracted Merlin to settling here. Openly using magic was frowned upon in most parts of the country, but here, there seemed to be some form of symbiotic relationship between the wizards and the Muggles.

The Muggles didn't like magic, but they didn't openly speak out against their landlords. They seemed happy enough to just ignore the fact that the family was magical as long as they stayed far enough away and provided for them when needed.

The wizards, the Slytherin family, seemed just as happy to exist peacefully alongside their traditional enemies, just so long as they paid their taxes on time.

It was something he hadn't observed anywhere else in Britain, at least since Arthur's day. He wondered how long it could possibly last. Muggle authorities everywhere were ordering people to rise up against witchcraft and put an end to their evil. The village priest had been spouting off about this for ages now, but no one really paid him much attention other than a few drunken grumblings in the tavern. The situation suited them, and none were in a rush to change it.

Merlin stood up and moved over to the door to his home. He stepped out into the village main street and let his eyes be drawn to the massive castle on the hill. It was heavily defensible, with steep sides and impenetrable earthen embankments. The only way to gain access was by a small winding road that led up to a flat clearing at the top where the massive gates barred entry. But apart from this, there was little to defend it, no foot soldiers or guards of any kind, save a few servants.

He frowned as he looked at it. Something about it drew him in. There was something here, something he hadn't felt in a long time. Was this finally the Old Religion instructing him to come forwards once more? Was there more to this family than meets the eye?

They seemed pretty average. One old widowed matriarch lived there, ancient and bow-backed, only occasionally making an appearance in the village. Her equally as aged sister-in-law lived with her, along with her nephew and his daughter. There were many castle servants, and Merlin saw them sometimes in the village. He was always kind to them, knowing full well what it was like to be at the beck and call of spoiled aristocrats. He didn't know the family at all, but he still felt drawn to them.

Perhaps it was the son that drew his attention? Salazar Slytherin had lived with his mother in the castle, having taken possession of the estate when his father died five years ago. But several months ago, just as Merlin had arrived in the village he had suddenly upped and left with an old childhood friend of his and gone off 'travelling', the villagers said. Many felt abandoned by their landlord, and wondered why he had left his responsibilities and duties to his aged mother and his aunt and cousin, both of whom were apparently severely lacking in sense.

They wanted to know where he had gone off to. Off to wreak havoc with his devilry, was what the priest said, and others wondered whether he wasn't off killing Muggles for not accepting magic.

All Merlin knew for certain was that there was something curious about him and that it would have to be examined further.

Then again, perhaps he was clutching at straws. The past three centuries had been full of guilt, grief and above all, monotony as he waited for the return of the Old Religion. Was he just creating mysterious situations in order to relieve his boredom?

It made sense, but somehow, he didn't think so.

He shook his head and once more ducked into his rather dark and dingy house. What was it about the Slytherin family that had drawn him here? Would he ever find out?

* * *

 

"Emrys! Emrys! Hurry!"

Merlin was jerked awake by the sound of someone pounding heavily on his door, almost knocking it off its hinges.

"Who's there?" He called, leaping out of bed, pulling a cloak around his night clothes and moving towards the front door cautiously. "What do you want?"

"It's my daughter! Please Emrys, she's sick! Come and help!"

"I'll be there shortly," said Merlin, resigning himself to a night without sleep. An occupational hazard of this job was that desperate people often hounded him all hours of the day and night to cure their illnesses. It was likely the girl had nothing more than a slight cold, but he should check anyway.

He hurriedly moved over to his worktop and filled a leather satchel with potions, herbs and other supplies. He splashed some water on his face in an attempt to waken himself a little more. He went over to the door, unbolted it and stepped out into the night.

What greeted him there was the sight of Aelbert, the village smith, his eyes wide and terrified. Merlin immediately tensed up; how bad was the child?

"Please," Aelbert begged, "come quickly."

Merlin nodded and followed him quickly through the night. Aelbert was a strong and proud man who absolutely doted on his daughter. Something bad indeed must have happened if he could be reduced to a frightened wreck like this.

They hurried across the street and entered into the smith's workshop, dark and silent, a curious contrast from the raging fire and deafening sounds of the daylight. Aelbert led him up a narrow staircase at the back and pushed through a door at the top.

The entire family lived in this one room, barely larger than the smithy beneath it. One half was filled with tables and chairs and a generous fireplace, and the other, where Aelbert was leading him had several straw mattresses gathered on the floor.

Merlin hurried forwards when he saw what was before him. Aelbert's wife, Mertha was kneeling beside the smallest mattress, her face white and tear-stained. She was clutching the hand of the small girl who was lying in the bed, but who seemed oblivious to her mother's presence.

She looked bad, Merlin thought as he knelt down beside her. She was lying unmoving, her entire body drenched in sweat. He placed a hand on her brow and found a high fever. She was shivering.

"How long has she been like this?" he asked the mother as he examined her.

"Not long," said Mertha, her voice hushed. "She was fine all afternoon, until about the evening when she said she had a headache and her muscles were sore. She was vomiting and we thought it was because of something she'd eaten, so we sent her to bed early. I came to check on her half an hour ago and she was like this."

Merlin nodded, concentrating on the girl's face. "It seems like it's a severe case of influenza," he said, though something seemed strange to him. "But I'm not entirely sure. I can try and bring down her fever and ease the pain, but I'll need to remain close by until I'm certain. There's something strange about this."

"Will she recover?" the father asked desperately, kneeling down beside her as well.

"I'll be able to determine that as soon as I've observed her over time," Merlin said gently. "It may just be what I think it is, but I need to be sure. Let me attend to her. I'll do everything in my power."

The parents nodded and looked so lost that Merlin felt the defences he'd put up around his heart weaken. But he had to focus, he had to be professional. It was another occupational hazard of being a physician; sometimes, there was just nothing that could be done.

He sat by the girl all night, trying to keep her cool and observing her until the light of the dawn began to creep in through the windows. There was no change, and when the girl finally woke she was confused and disoriented.

"I need to get some more water," Merlin announced standing up.

"I'll come with you," said the father immediately, apparently desperate for something to do.

Merlin nodded, and he took hold of a bucket and they made their way out into the street and towards the well in the centre of the village. The occupants of the houses they passed were finally beginning to stir.

Merlin attached the bucket to the rope and began to haul up the water. He cast a sideways glance at Aelbert.

"How did she get this disease?"

"I don't know," he answered, looking off into space. "She hasn't been sick at all. She never gets sick."

"She's had no contact with anyone who was ill?" Merlin asked, pressing for details.

The father frowned. "No. She hasn't left the village in over a week."

"Where did she go the last time she left?"

"She came with me to the market in Jerrow," answered Aelbert, frowning again. "But she was fine."

Merlin sighed and leaned against the well. "She may have come into contact with something over there that hasn't shown itself until now."

He looked around at the rapidly populating marketplace. "Take this back to her, and try to keep her as cool as possible. Feed her some broth, and infuse it with the potion I gave to you. I need a couple of days to observe. If she hasn't recovered within that time then I'm afraid it will be something far more serious than influenza."

Aelbert nodded, and appeared to be putting on a brave face. "You haven't failed this village yet, Emrys."

And with that, he made his way back to the smithy carrying the water. Merlin watched him go, his heart heavy.

After a few moments he made his way back to his own home. He felt like he was carrying a great weight, such was his exhaustion. He collapsed on to his bed, determined to get at least a few hours rest. There was nothing he could do for the girl at the moment. Time would tell.

* * *

 

"She's not getting any better is she?" Aelbert asked anxiously from beside his daughter's bedside. "You said the fever should have gone down by now, but it hasn't. What's wrong with her? What's wrong with Deira?"

"I don't know," Merlin said, honestly puzzled. He'd been with the girl almost constantly for the last two days, yet she showed no sign of improving; none of his potions were having the slightest effect. It made no sense; these potions had been made by himself in the privacy of his own home; they were infused with magic. He'd used them countless times before on fevers like this, why did it not work now?

"Do something!"

"I'll try," Merlin said, looking down at the poor girl's face, which was contorted and feverish.

He examined her again, trying to ignore the small pained sounds she made as he touched her aching limbs. Then, something made him stop dead.

"What is it?" Aelbert asked, as he noticed Merlin's expression.

"Her mouth," Merlin murmured. "There's a rash."

Small red spots had now erupted on her tongue and inside her mouth. A chill went through him as he looked closely.

Aelbert also leaned in. "What's causing it?"

But Merlin was clueless.

Within a day, the spots had developed into sores that filled her mouth and made breathing difficult. They began to break open and Merlin feared further infection.

In addition to this, the rash seemed to be spreading across her entire body, with great lesions appearing on her face and neck. No treatment seemed to be able to prevent their spread.

One blessing however, was that the fever seemed to have broken. The young girl, Deira, was now more responsive and in less pain. Her parents seemed to think the worst was over. But Merlin wasn't so sure.

"Why are you so worried?" Aelbert asked him. "The fever is gone!"

"But the rash remains," said Merlin gravely. "I do not know what effect it will have on her."

"So she'll have a few scars-"

"I fear it will be much worse than that," Merlin interrupted. He turned and headed straight back to his home. He had to figure this out.

He wasn't sure what was making him like this. Deira seemed to be feeling much better, but still, a great horror seemed to be clutching hold of his heart and refusing to let go. There was much worse to come, and Merlin was afraid.

He searched through his many books, searching for some mention of this strange disease, but found none. His sense of foreboding increased.

The third day after the appearance of the rash and it had changed to form large bumps on her limbs, by the fourth, they had become pustular. Once again, the fever returned with a vehemence, and suddenly the child was in a state of constant pain.

The pustules were sharply raised, and hard to the touch, like there was a small object under the skin. The fever remained high, and Merlin's fear increased.

He tried everything he could, tried every treatment he had available, sometimes enhanced with magic, but nothing seemed to work.

The pustules began to scab over and Merlin hoped for a brief while that they might yet emerge from this, but the scabs broke open and Deira seemed to be getting worse rather than better.

"Why is this happening to her?" Mertha had asked, sobbing into the arm of her husband as Deira steadily got worse and worse. "She's only a child!"

Merlin wished he knew the answer.

It was soon the second week of the illness, and the girl was still in a great deal of pain.

Merlin was sitting by her beside while her parents got some rest down in the smithy below. He was exhausted. He'd been staying here almost every night. Never since Camelot had he seen such an awful disease. Could it be magical?

But why then did his magic have no effect on it?

He listened for the sounds of Aelbert and Mertha, and satisfied they were still below, he crept closer to Deira and placed a palm on her fiery brow.

He closed his eyes, and summoned as much magic as he could from within him, feeling his old instincts reawaken.

" _Hālian se_ _mǣdencild._ _Hālian_ _hiere_ _innan."_

The magic flowed from him in a great torrent and into the child's tiny body, a golden glow surrounding her, but nothing changed. She didn't even stir.

Merlin cursed and fell back, clutching his head in his hands. Why was nothing working?

He stood up and began to pace around the small room, breathing heavily. Why was he so useless? He was the most powerful sorcerer in all of history! Why was he so helpless against a simple Muggle disease?

What would Gaius do now, Merlin thought miserably. Would he be able to help?

Merlin took his place by the bed again. He had to think of something. He couldn't let this poor child die, not the way he'd let it happen to Arthur …

He stood up suddenly, a new fire within him. There must have been something he missed in all his books. There had to be something.

He cast one last look back at the sleeping child. She wasn't going to last much longer like this. He was her last hope.

He turned away and crept over to the staircase that led to the room below. He made his way down as silently as he could, but stopped suddenly when he heard voices coming from the smithy.

"-please, Aelbert. She's going to die!"

"I won't ask them for help, Mertha. I don't want anything to do with them."

"But they could help!"

"I don't want that sort of help."

"Do you care so little about your own daughter?"

"Do not say that!" Aelbert said, his voice angry and dripping with emotion. "If Deira dies, then a whole part of me will die with her. But I will not go to them for help, do not ask me to. I would rather she die surrounded by her family than allow her to be corrupted by  _them."_

"I don't want her to die at all," Mertha pleaded. "And if they bring her back to us, I won't care how they did it.  _Please._ "

"They're unholy," Aelbert said firmly. "I won't allow them to touch her. If this is what God wants, then so be it. He wouldn't want us to turn to  _their_  sort. This is our test."

"I don't care!" wailed Mertha. "Nothing the Slytherins could do would be more evil than us sitting by and letting our daughter die."

So this was it, Merlin thought, Mertha wanted to use magic to save her child. He almost smiled. It was remarkable what the love of a child could do to a parent. Even the ones who hated magic, like Uther and Mertha, would resort to it to save their child.

He doubted the Slytherin's could help; Wand-Wielders were much weaker than himself. No, only he could do it. He had to find some sort of spell, one he hadn't tried yet. Deira  _would_  be saved by magic, but her parents need know nothing about it.

He emerged into the smithy and immediately Aelbert and Metha leapt up from their places by the fire, their faces fearful.

"Is she-"

"No," said Merlin, "but I need to go back for more supplies. You should go to her, I fear she's getting worse."

Fat tears spilled from Mertha's eyes and she immediately ran to her daughter. Aelbert paled and moved closer to Merlin, fixing his eyes on Merlin's.

"She isn't going to get better is she?" Alebert asked, staring at Merlin. "Tell me the truth, Emrys. Is there something more that you can do for her, or should I send for the priest?"

Merlin wanted to tell him everything would be fine, that Deira would get better, but he couldn't. He'd seen too much death and destruction over the centuries to have any sort of faith.

"Do what you feel you need to," said Merlin, hearing his own grief in his voice. "I'm afraid anything else I can do will not be enough. Go to her."

Aelbert seemed to crumple at his words, but he nodded. Merlin didn't stay around, he needed to stay strong if there was going to be any hope left.

He ran to his home and pulled open the door so violently it creaked in protest. He darted inside, and lit several lamps with a flash of his eyes, not caring who saw him. He pulled book after book down from the shelves and flipped through them, desperate for some inspired revelation. He tossed them aside, leaving great piles of discarded books on the floor. Nothing.

He went to a dark corner at the back and pulled aside the threadbare rug that was there. Underneath was a loose stone which he soon pulled aside. Underneath lay his most prized possessions; all that remained from his life in Camelot. He seized his old spellbook and sat in a heap on the floor leafing through it in vain. He had practically memorised this book as a youth, he knew there was nothing in it that could help, but this didn't stop him hoping desperately for something to suddenly appear.  _Anything._

He sat there long into the night, feeling utterly wretched. That poor child was going to die unless he did something.

Dawn began to break and Merlin leapt into action. He couldn't sit here feeling sorry for himself. He was going to go to her and sit and use every single spell he could think of, irrespective of who saw him until she got better. He couldn't watch her die.

He ran out into the street with a new sense of purpose but stopped dead when he looked towards the smithy.

Mertha was standing before the doors to the smithy. She was staring into space, her hands by her side. She seemed as if she was about to collapse at any moment. Her eyes were dead.

Merlin knew what had happened.

He felt a searing pain in his chest as he looked at the lost expression on the woman's face.  _He had failed._

He stepped forward cautiously, though not knowing what exactly he would say to her, how could he say anything? How do you comfort a woman who had lost her only child?

"Mertha …"

Mertha turned to face him, but she didn't seem to recognise him.

"My daughter is dead," she said, her voice weak from crying. "She's dead …"

"I am so sorry …" he said, unable to say anything else. He felt the grief inside of him rise up, though it was nothing to what this poor woman must be feeling.

Suddenly, Mertha's composure broke. Tears spilled from her eyes and she gave great heaving sobs.

"She's dead! She's dead! My baby girl …"

She seemed to collapse and Merlin leapt forward to catch her. She fell into his arms and clutched at his shirt, weeping heavily, unable to support herself. "She's dead …"

Merlin didn't know what to do. How could he do anything?

He was saved from responding by the opening of the smithy door. The village priest, the rather portly Father Callan emerged, his head held proudly with an expression of sickening righteousness on it. He placed a hand on Mertha's shoulder and gently drew him over to her and away from Merlin.

"There now, my child," he said in a falsely soothing voice, "she is with God now. Do not despair."

He cast Merlin an uninterested look, and turned with Mertha and began to guide her gently towards the village church. "Come now, and we shall go together to pray for her soul."

Merlin tried not to sniff with disapproval at this. What sort of a man was he? He hadn't given a damn while the child was lying sick, but now she was dead he was suddenly the ultimate authority on the matter? Callan had never liked him, but Merlin didn't like him either. It may be that he was one of the only ones in the village not to attend church. Callan did not care much for those that did not believe. Merlin had been born a pagan, he wasn't about to convert now to please some fat old man who lacked any common decency.

He waited until both of them were out of sight before heading back into the smithy and gently heading up the stairs. Was it only now that he was sensing the stench of death that permeated the residence? The entire world seemed to be dimmed in shadow, a hushed silence was over the village like the heavens themselves were grieving.

He made his way into the room at the top of the house and found Aelbert there kneeling by the bed in which his daughter lay, her hands crossed over her chest, her face finally at peace. Merlin bowed his head in respect. She had only been seven years old.

Aelbert glanced up when he heard Merlin's approach. His face was covered with tears, but he seemed oddly calm.

"The world will be a duller place without her," he observed flatly. "Her laugh used to fill this house, her smiles could brighten even the darkest of days. Now those smiles will cheer me no longer."

"She is at peace now," Merlin said, unable to come up with anything better. "She is suffering no longer."

Aelbert smiled ruefully. "No, it is only her parents now who are gifted that fate. I am glad at least that it is over."

He bowed his head over his daughter's motionless form, and seemed to be trying to compose himself.

"Your wife needs you," Merlin said gently. "You must both find your strength now in each other."

Aelbert nodded, and raised his head.

"They say it is worse for the mother," he said quietly. "To have carried life within you safe for so long, only to have this cruel world tear it away when there is nothing you can do to stop it. But none ever mention the pain of a father."

He stood up and looked down at Deira, more tears spilling down his cheeks. "She was our miracle," he said, his voice intense. "Many years we tried for a child, and then she came along just when we had given up hope. What sort of God would grant our prayers so joyously and then rip her away from us so cruelly?"

He wiped his face and turned away from her. He came over to Merlin and made to go past him and go down the stairs. He stopped and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulders, forcing him to look at him.

"Thank you, Emrys," he said, the tears welling up once more. "Thank you for what you tried to do."

And with that, he left. Merlin stood in the room for several moments, watching the bed as though expecting the girl to suddenly rise from it.

He moved over to beside her and knelt down, looking at her scarred face. He pulled the blanket up and over the face, concealing her ailment from view.

"Rest in peace now, Deira," he said softly. "You can come to no harm now."

* * *

 

The rest of the day Merlin spent in silent contemplation in his home, trying to dispel his feelings of guilt and grief so as to not go insane. Could he have done more? Should he have waited so long before trying magic?

Aelbert and Mertha had remained in the church all day and not emerged. Merlin wanted to go to them, to just be there for them even if no comforting words could be found, but he knew he would not be welcome. Grieving parents needed time to grieve, finding solace for their sorrow in whatever way they could, and besides, Father Callan would not be pleased to see him. He wouldn't want Merlin inside of his church; he seemed to think it a great crime if Merlin so much as walked past it, as though the church would suddenly turn pagan just from his presence.

He felt strangely at odds; the last few days had been filled with so many hectic rushings around and rummaging through books looking for answers that were now pointless. What was he to do now?

Was it his fault? Was there some spell he had missed because he'd spent so long out of practice?

Memories of Arthur came flooding back. That had been his fault as well … he hadn't got there in time …

A knocking on the door brought him out of his thoughts. He sighed heavily, and feeling like the old man he was, he stood up from his chair and crossed to the door. He opened it to find a young boy standing there, looking around nervously. He started in surprise. The boy bit his lip.

"Are you the healer, Emrys?"

"I am," Merlin answered, confused. "Who wants to know?"

The boy glanced up the street. "The Lady Cassandra would like to see you."

"Lady Cassandra?" Merlin repeated, amazed. "Cassandra Slytherin?"

The boy nodded vigourously. "She wants to see you straight away."

Merlin looked up the street, allowing his eyes to drift up to the distant shape of the castle.

"Well, I cannot keep the Lady waiting can I?"

* * *

 

**Historical note: The illness the girl had was smallpox, which was what I established in AR. It was almost unheard of in this part of the world in the tenth century, and this explains Merlin's confusion and inability to help until it was too late. It wasn't given the name smallpox until the fifteenth century, to distinguish it from the Great Pox (syphilis) and until then was called 'the pox' or 'the red plague.' I've tried to be as accurate as I could to the symptoms, but it's probably not right, so I apologise to any medical students out there!**


	2. Cassandra Slytherin

Merlin followed the boy up the path towards the Slytherin castle, wondering why the Lady wanted to see him. Was he now about to find out why he felt so drawn to this family? It was three miles to the castle from the village, and he and the boy were both on foot. It was just after midday and the sun's rays were just peeking weakly out from behind the dull clouds. Merlin plodded on through the mud that lined the path, cursing the steepness of the hill; now he saw why the family rarely left the castle.

Finally, the two of them reached the front gates, in the centre of a wide and flat expanse at the top of the hill. He looked up at the massive gates in interest. Two guards were patrolling along the towers on either end, but Merlin knew this was for show more than anything. The Slytherins did not keep a garrison like many other large noble families. They evidently thought themselves above being attacked.

The gates swung open as he approached and Merlin entered into the courtyard beyond, not being able to help feeling nervous. As always, when he entered a castle, he couldn't help but compare it to Camelot. It was smaller, and more shabby, but grand in its own way, he supposed. Stables housing a few horses were at one end, a well stood in the middle of the courtyard and wide steps led up to the rooms beyond. A few servants scurried here and there.

The boy pointed. "She'll show you the way."

Merlin looked, and saw a serving girl, only about fourteen or fifteen years old standing at the top of the stairs. He nodded to the boy and climbed the stairs, noticing that the girl did not take her eyes off him. She seemed nervous.

"You're Emrys?" she asked as soon as he approached, in a voice that seemed much older than she was.

"I am."

"Come with me, my mistress desires to speak with you."

"I gathered that," Merlin said dryly, but he followed the girl anyway. She led him confidently down a labyrinth of corridors, never faltering in her step. He looked around surreptitiously as he walked. The Slytherins were rich, that much was apparent. Lavish tapestries covered the walls displaying grand hunting scenes and heroes from legend. He even noticed with amusement one that seemed to represent Camelot, with himself standing there, bearded and ancient. He shook his head …  _the beard._

He noticed a definite serpentine influence in the décor as he looked around. The brackets that held the torches in place were snakes, their long tails curled around the wood, their jaws fiery, emerald eyes glinting with the light as though alive. Carved serpent pillars were in place every ten feet along the corridors and Merlin felt uneasy as he passed them as though they could spring to life and strike at him from behind.

The girl paid them no attention however, and soon stopped in front of a small wooden door, on which yet more serpents were carved. She knocked and opened the door, striding in without waiting for an answer. She curtsied in the doorway.

"Emrys is here, my Lady."

"Excellent. Leave us, Mayda" An ancient and croaky voice sounded from within.

Mayda curtsied once more and gestured for him to enter, which he did, his senses ever alert.

The room was small and dark, illuminated only by a large fireplace, and it took a few moments for him to adjust to the dim lighting. When he did, he saw a great carved chair silhouetted against the fire. In this chair sat an ancient woman, her back bent with age, her hair silvery and tied in a braid that fell to her waist. She was clad in a green gown that seemed too large for her emaciated frame. Around her ankles, a massive snake unlike any Merlin had ever seen in this country was curled, hissing quietly. But it was her face that caught his attention. Though her body was frail with age, she had the determined expression of one many years younger. Her expression was stony, and Merlin knew she was someone not to be messed with. Her eyes were as emerald as the serpents in the hall that he had passed, and regarded him in a shrewd sharp manner that Merlin wasn't quite sure he felt comfortable with.

Those emerald eyes were examining him critically from head to toe, her head cocked to one side in contemplation. Her eyes snapped back up to his face.

"I have heard many great things about you, Master Emrys," she said, her very voice sounding regal. "I did not expect you to be so young."

Merlin resisted the urge to smile. Three hundred years old and he was  _young?_

"Age is no indication of anything, my Lady," he said humbly, bowing slightly, remembering from Camelot the best way to flatter the aristocracy. "It is our deeds alone that distinguish us, not our years. And I am humbled indeed to have come to the attention of one as distinguished as our noble Lady."

"Hmm," grunted Lady Cassandra. "Silvery words. You seem much older when you speak."

Merlin again fought the urge to smile.

She sat up a little straighter. "Of course, there is more to you than meets the eye. I see things that not many others see, my boy. Your name for instance."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "My name? What significance has that, my Lady?"

"You know perfectly well," she grunted. "Either you're so full of yourself and arrogant about your abilities that you chose this name for yourself, or you had very optimistic parents. A name as great as this should not be given out lightly."

She was shrewd, Merlin observed. She knew of the legends.

"Do you think you are worthy of such a name?" she asked, leaning closer.

"I would hope so, my Lady," Merlin said, bowing again.  _Especially as it is my real name,_  he added silently. "I will leave it up to your own good judgment to decide that."

He heard a sudden cackling from the corner. "Oh, he knows his way around the upper classes he does." Merlin turned to see another old woman, more squat and dim looking than the other. "He's no ordinary healer, dear sister. He's consorted with nobility before, you can see it in his bearing."

Merlin smiled with effort; obviously consorting with royals had scarred him for life.

Cassandra Slytherin nodded to her sister-in-law. "Yes, you are right, Bernica. I can sense it within him."

She tilted her head to one side again. "Curious," she murmured. "Not an ordinary peasant, yet willing to consort so openly with them …"

"I lead a simple life, my Lady," Merlin said.

"And I would bet my wand that it's not by choice," Lady Cassandra observed. "You lived a greater life than this once."

Although Merlin felt uncomfortable under her searching gaze, he began to admire her intuitiveness. The Slytherin reputation was well deserved.

She pulled out a wand from within her gown and pointed it to the wine jug that sat before her on the table. It lifted up into the air and poured the red liquid into a waiting goblet, which then floated towards the Lady on pale smoke. She watched him carefully. She raised her eyebrows.

"Not even a twitch. You are unusual. Does magic not frighten you?"

Merlin tried not to laugh at the irony. "No, my Lady. It does not."

She smiled a smile that seemed to conceal a multitude of hidden meanings.

"The villagers do not think likewise."

Merlin said nothing. He stared back at her as intensely as she stared at him, sensing he was being tested.

She took a deep draught of wine and leaned back in her chair, watching him. Lady Bernica watched him as closely, though she didn't have the same unnerving look in her eye.

Merlin waited patiently; eventually they'd have to reveal why they'd summoned him.

"You're doing well, boy," Lady Cassandra observed. "Not many could stand there as bravely as you."

"You are not so formidable, my Lady."

She laughed, a sharp barking sound. "Oh, cheek as well, eh? You're intriguing me further and further. Very well," she eyed him closely. "If magic does not scare you, and  _I_ do not, what does?"

"My Lady could hardly expect me to own up to it?"

She smiled wryly. "Evading questions? Yes, I think I like you." She sent another goblet of wine flying at him with her wand. "You may have a drink for that."

Merlin bowed, and drank; the wine was expensive and far more titillating than the cheap stuff consumed down at the village tavern.

Lady Cassandra watched him closely. "I think I do know what scares you. Guilt. Standing by helpless as events unfold outwith your control."

Merlin tried not to let on how close the mark she was. "Oh? And what makes you think that, my Lady?"

She smiled. "I told you, I can tell things about people that others cannot." She jerked her head towards the window and the general direction of the village. "You were unable to save that girl. I should think that would scare any physician."

Merlin tried not to show his surprise. "My Lady is remarkably well informed. The child died not four hours ago."

"There is little that goes on in that village that I am unaware of," she answered, and Merlin noticed her eyes flicked to her snake as she spoke. It hissed again. "What was it that ailed her?"

"I do not know," said Merlin. "It was a disease I have not encountered before. I was unable to do anything to treat her."

Lady Cassandra nodded. "And have you heard the murmurings in the village?"

"I do not pay attention to gossip, my Lady."

"You would do well to," she said fiercely. "This child's death, tragic as it is in itself, is a dark omen."

"An omen?"

"You know of what I speak," she said, her eyes glinting. "Do you think I know not what they whisper about me and my family? They believe we are evil for what we practice. The gossiping has gotten ever more violent since my son left on his travels, and I fear the death of this child will ignite them further. Especially as it was such an  _unusual_ ailment."

"Why have you summoned me here, my Lady?" Merlin asked, not willing to dance around the subject any longer.

"I want you to find the real cause of the disease," the Lady said to him, apparently pleased with his directness. "It must have come from somewhere. Find the cause, and the treatment. Show to the villagers that it is not a sign from the heavens sent to punish them. Prove to them that it is not an unnatural affliction."

"You place a lot of faith in my abilities, my Lady," answered Merlin. "What makes you sure it _is_  natural?"

"I have heard accounts from other villages, the same disease has affected them," she answered. "Consult with other healers. I'm sure you'll be able to come up with something."

"And what makes you so certain that I will succeed where so many others have apparently failed?" he asked, beginning to suspect the real reason he had been summoned here.

She grinned, showing a row of gleaming white teeth. "You and I both know why you are more likely to succeed than most. You were caught by surprise, but by learning more of this disease I am confident you will come up with something. After all, you're no ordinary physician are you?"

Merlin felt a small smile creep across his features. "What makes you say that, my Lady?"

"Magic attracts magic, young Master Emrys," she said, and began stroking the snake that had slithered up to her lap. "And it's remarkable how dim-witted some can be. When doing magic in a place where it is banned, it's astonishing how many people look all around them for suspecting eyes, but never above to see what may be lurking in the rafters."

The snake hissed again, and Merlin suddenly understood. "You are a Parselmouth," he said, noting how the snake seemed to look up at his words. "Spying on the villagers? Surely there are better things a snake could be doing with its time?"

Lady Cassandra looked only mildly surprised. "We live in dangerous times," she said, continuing to stroke the snake. "An old lady must take precautions to protect herself."

She adjusted the sleeves of her gown. "Again, you intrigue me. You bear the name of the greatest sorcerer who ever lived, practice magic in a village full of Muggles and know of Parseltongue, a rare and dying ability. I wonder how?"

"Are you from the nobility?" Lady Bernica asked, leaning in and squinting at him. "You are obviously an educated man. Why surround yourself with Muggle peasants?"

"It suits my purpose," Merlin answered calmly.

"And what is that?"

"Waiting for my destiny," Merlin answered, rather cryptically, noting the annoyed looks on both the old women's faces.

Lady Cassandra chuckled under her breath. "You are a mystery, young Master Emrys. I doubt even the shrewdest of Slytherin minds could figure you out."

Merlin did not answer.

"Very well," she announced, her voice suddenly more controlling. "You may keep your secrets. But do I have your support?"

"Support?"

"This new situation is dangerous for us both," she said. "It would be mutually beneficial if you could calm the villager's suspicions."

"They do not know about me, my Lady," Merlin said, amused by her annoyed expression. "It would only be you that is in danger."

Her eyes flashed. "And my sister-in-law, nephew and great-neice, plus all the members of the household. Do you care so little for your own kind?"

Merlin had to admit, toying with her was amusing. Of course, he had every intention of helping; he'd been planning on consulting with others anyway, but he rather liked the idea of this proud woman asking for help from a peasant.

"I will help, my Lady," he said, bowing. "You were right, being helpless does frighten me, and I have no wish to watch another child die like that. I also would not stand by and watch the persecution of others, regardless of whether I was like them or not. I will leave for the next village tonight."

Lady Cassandra nodded sharply. "You will be rewarded, young Master Emrys. I could have many uses for you. You would no longer need to associate with those ignorant villagers."

"I would associate with them anyway," said Merlin firmly.

"Even though they would burn you at the stake given half the chance?"

"It is not the first time I have lived like this," said Merlin, quietly. "I will help others, regardless of whether they want my help or not. Muggles may be ignorant, and they may fear us, but who can blame them?"

"You are one of those who wish to return to the Golden Years of Camelot?"

_Yes, more than anything._

"I would settle for less, my Lady," he said calmly. "Toleration between the two races if not friendship."

She sniffed loudly. "You're waiting for a miracle."

"Perhaps so," Merlin said. "But I  _will_ wait."

Lady Cassandra regarded him intensely, as if trying to determine if he was serious or not. Eventually, she seemed to shrug it off.

"Very well," she said finally. "You should set out immediately. The situation is precarious. I am depending on you, Emrys. You have such a powerful name … I only hope you live up to it."

Merlin bowed, trying not to feel the sharp sting of those words.  _Emrys._  He used the name still, but he was no longer that man, the one in legend. He had failed in his duty at the end. Would he do so again?

Lady Cassandra pulled on a cord beside her chair, and almost immediately, the door opened and the servant girl appeared once more.

"Farewell, Emrys," Lady Cassandra said, her emerald eyes piercing into his very soul. "Remember what I said. The situation is far more serious than you seem to think."

He fixed her with one long last look, and turned to follow the servant girl out again without glancing back.

The girl led him back through the maze of passages as silently as before. Merlin's mind was racing. The Slytherins were indeed a complex family. Was this why he'd been drawn here? To help them against the Muggles that threatened them? Somehow he didn't think so; they were far too proud to need him.

Yet, as he emerged back out into the courtyard and he observed the sparse guard he couldn't help but feel uneasy. The castle certainly looked impenetrable, but it would not stand up to siege with so few men. There were magical people living inside, certainly, but two of them were old women, who though intelligent, were dramatically weakened in their magical ability; he had sensed as much while in the room with them. One was only a mere child. Her father may be the only one truly able to defend the place, but from what Merlin had heard about his intelligence …

He heard laughing from the opposite end of the courtyard. He turned his head to see a young girl, perhaps only about five years old sitting astride a fat grey pony, giggling as it flicked its ears and tail. By her side, with a tight grip on the reigns, was evidently her father judging by the look of adoration on his face.

He couldn't help but be reminded of Aelbert in the village and his love for his daughter. Was grief over that loss going to lead to the destruction of this family as well?

The girl looked up at him and smiled, but Merlin felt nothing but a chill in his heart. Her face, so innocent and open … there was a great misgiving inside of him. Something awful was looming.

He turned and headed out of the great gates and made his way back to the village as quickly as he could on the horse the serving girl had had brought to him on her mistress' orders. He had to hurry if he was to convince the villagers that the disease was entirely natural and not brought about by the inhabitants of this castle.

He galloped rapidly into the village and leapt off his horse as he neared his home and tied it to a pole. He hurried inside and threw a few things together in his bag, taking care to hide his magic book in case any of the villagers came snooping in his absence. It had happened before; he'd been driven out of two other villages in times gone by when they discovered his magic. Somehow his years of security in Camelot had helped him forget about being careful to stay concealed.

He picked up the bag and went back out into the street and attached it securely to the saddle. He was about to mount the horse when he noticed a skulking shape out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find Father Callan standing there.

"Can I help you, Father?" Merlin asked, more politely than he felt.

Father Callen's eyes flicked to the bag on the horse. "That remains to be seen. Are you going somewhere?"

"Only to the next village," said Merlin. He wanted to respond much more rudely but sensed that this was probably not a good idea; he didn't want to give the man more reason to hate him. "I want to prevent this tragedy from happening again. I'm off to try and find a cure."

Father Callan smiled, but the sight of that smile just made Merlin more uneasy. "You will not be successful, Emrys."

"Have you so little faith, Father?" Merlin asked, raising his eyebrows. "Others may have more effective treatments than I."

The man's smile widened, and a dangerous gleam came into his eye. "You will not be successful," he said slowly, "because this disease is not natural."

"It seems natural to me," said Merlin firmly. "Just because something is strange and new does not mean it is unnatural. We simply have to take the time to understand it better."

"I understand it perfectly," said Father Callan, and his eyes were wild. "This disease was brought on us by God as punishment."

Merlin frowned and stared the man down. "Your God would punish an innocent child?"

"It is not the child who is punished," said Father Callan dismissively. "She is gone on to a better place."

"Tell that to her parents," Merlin said coldly.

"It they who are being punished," Father Callan continued. "They who suffer, along with the rest of us. It is our punishment for the evil we have allowed into our midst."

"And He chooses to do this through a child? How merciful."

Father Callan scowled. "Of course, I wouldn't expect a pagan like yourself to understand. But you must understand the situation we are in now. The corruptive influence of the Slytherins  _must end._ "

"And how exactly have they been corruptive?" Merlin asked. "What is it they have done?"

"They  _exist,_ " spat the priest, his eyes popping. "'Thou shallt not suffer a witch to live.' The Lord Himself has decreed it. By letting them live, we are bringing God's wrath upon us."

"No," Merlin said, his voice laced with anger. "It is ignorance that is our undoing. My ignorance in not knowing how to treat the child that led to her death, and it will be your downfall if you pursue  _this_  path of ignorance."

"Is that a threat, Emrys?"

"It is a warning," said Merlin, and his hatred of the man who growing every minute. "Do not pursue this. I will return in a few weeks, and I will prove to you that this disease can be treated and is not a plague unleashed by a vengeful God."

"And I warn  _you_ , Emrys," said the priest stepping closer. "I know where you were this afternoon. They are evil, and you cannot trust a word they say. I urge you, Emrys. Choose the right path. If you continue like this you will come under as much suspicion as them. Repent, declare your undying loyalty for the one true God and you may be spared."

"And the Slytherins?"

A look of anger crossed the man's face. "They will be dealt with as God commands."

"Even the child?" Merlin asked, staring at the man in repulsion. "I cannot believe that this is what your God commands. Does He not also say 'Love thy neighbour'? It seems you are only trying to justify your cruel actions by hiding behind flimsy excuses, picking and choosing what to believe. You are a hypocrite. I do not object to your faith, or your God, Father. What I object to is people like you who abuse the power and influence they are given by pursuing personal vendettas and claiming they are speaking for the masses."

Merlin looked at him coldly. "You are hiding behind your religion, Father. You do not pursue this because you believe it to be holy and just, you do it only for your own means. You disgust me."

He turned away from the man and mounted his horse. Father Callan was spitting was rage.

"You will regret this, Emrys!" he called, as Merlin began to move away on the horse. "There will come a day when you will beg for the Lord's forgiveness for your wicked, pagan ways! The Day of Reckoning is coming! Make sure you are on the right side!"

Merlin ignored him with difficulty, so furious was he at the man's words. It was scum like him that were the reason for Camelot's downfall; idiots who persecuted innocent people for no good reason. He was a slimy coward, trying to make himself appear righteous while at the same time advocating hate and violence.

He was a disgrace to what he preached. Although never a convert, Merlin had listened to many a sermon of the new religion that had found its way into Britain after Camelot's fall and was not wholly disapproving. It preached love, tolerance and mercy, but all Father Callan seemed to spout was hatred and strife. Not to mention, Merlin knew for a fact he did not adhere to his vows of poverty and chastity.

Well, he'd show him, Merlin thought, clutching his reins tighter. He'd prove to him that there was another way, a way they could all live together, that this was no divine punishment. Why had people forgotten the ways and peace of Camelot so quickly?

He urged his horse into a faster pace and he pulled his cloak tighter around him.

He'd show that despicable man what true harmony was.

 


	3. The Tragedy

 

"And you've no idea where the disease comes from?" Merlin asked the healer desperately.

"No," said the man gravely, looking as exhausted as Merlin felt. "It appeared down south about two months ago and has been spreading north ever since."

"And there's no cure?"

"Not that I've heard of," said the man shaking his head.

Merlin tried not to feel frustrated. This was the fourth village he'd come to after leaving, and in each one he'd discovered victims of this strange new disease and exasperated healers.

"Why does it only kill some?" Merlin asked. "The ones that survive … why were they different?"

The man shrugged. "No idea. But even if they do survive, the pox leaves them with massive scarring all over the face, and some are even left blind. I can't make out a pattern at all. The red plague is a blight on us all."

 _The red plague_ ; that was what they were calling this pox. It seemed like a ferocious monster, spreading its way across the land devouring life wherever it went. It was unstoppable.

They were sitting on a bench outside the village tavern, which had been turned into an infirmary of sorts. This village was by far the worst struck that he had seen. The sounds of crying mothers and wives met Merlin's ears. The healer held his head in his arms.

"There's naught I can do," he said, his voice despairing. "They come to me, begging for help, but there's nothing I can give them except sympathy. I've never felt so powerless."

"I know the feeling," said Merlin quietly. So far, his quest to find a cure for this disease was failing miserably. It truly was a plague. Time to try a different tactic.

"What would you say to those who say this is a punishment from God?" he asked, gently probing the man.

The healer shrugged. "I never gave it much thought before this. I've met many a decent sorcerer, I've seen the good they can do with healing magic. But … maybe they're right. Perhaps this is a punishment." He sighed heavily. "It affects them as well, you know. An entire family of sorcerers across the river there were wiped out by it. Our diseases don't usually hit them so hard; they've got spells and the like to stop it. But none of them can fight this either, their magic is as useless as my potions. It makes you think … if magic can't stop this disease, perhaps it is a sign."

But Merlin refused to believe this. Perhaps modern magic couldn't stop it, but he was more powerful than them.

If only Gaius was here, he couldn't help thinking. Merlin was by all means an excellent physician, but Gaius had been even better; he had come up with more cures and antidotes than Merlin ever had. That had been his gift, an ability for healing that surpassed everyone else's, including Merlin's. He'd have some idea of what to do.

If only there were other Old Religion sorcerers around. Merlin may have been more powerful than all of them, but it would be nice to consult with them. After all, for many their specialty had been healing. They had a way of looking at things Merlin did not. But they were all gone now, along with the Druids. Their descendants still followed the Old Ways, but now that the Old Religion had faded from the world, their magic was even weaker than the Wand-Wielders; insignificant and shoddy.

The healer looked up and looked worried. "You said that there was only one case in that village of yours?"

"Yes," said Merlin. "A young girl. She must have picked it up when visiting the market with her father."

The healer looked even more grave. "You should get back as quickly as possible," he said. "You've been gone, what, two weeks? This disease is highly contagious, my boy. Symptoms don't show themselves straight away. They can appear up to a week after infection. The disease won't have stopped at the girl."

Merlin went cold as he considered this. Had any of the other villagers succumbed to the disease when he'd been off on this fruitless search?

"But how can I go back without a cure?" Merlin asked the man. "I said I would find one, to prove that it was entirely natural and not brought on them by a god. How can I return empty-handed? I'll be useless to them!"

"Not everyone dies from it," the healer reminded him. "And sometimes just the sight of a physician will be reassuring to them, make them less frightened, even if you can do nothing."

The man stood up and looked down at Merlin who was sitting frozen to the bench.

"I had best get back to my patients," he announced, "even if I am useless." He paused. "The disease usually kills in the second week when the sores begin to break open. Guard against infection and treat with some hyssop and you may have some limited success."

"Thank you," said Merlin.

"I wish you luck, and I'll give you some advice," he said, eyeing Merlin closely. "The worst pandemic is fear. If they survive the pox, they may yet succumb to fear and suspicion. Hysteria has more casualties than any disease. Get back to your village before they do something they may regret."

Merlin nodded, and a great fear seemed to have seized him around the heart. Father Callan was still there … what would he get them all to do if the disease continued killing? Had he made a massive mistake in leaving?

He rode through the night, desperate to get back as quickly as he could, feeling a great sense of panic come over him. He shouldn't have left. Something awful had happened.

He was freezing, sitting there on horse, but he was numb to it. Why had he left?

Heavy rain began to fall and Merlin was soon soaked to the skin, but he didn't bother to cast a spell to keep him dry. The whole world seemed to be doused in water. The path before him was muddy and filled with puddles. Merlin felt the water dripping down his face and shivers ran through him, but not from cold.

_Something bad was happening._

He'd felt it when he'd been away, but he'd put it down to his fear of not finding a cure. He'd barely even considered what would happen if the disease spread in his absence. The gnawing feeling he'd had in his gut since he had left the Slytherin castle suddenly made sense. He should not have left.

Then, by the light of the moon which was beginning to peek out behind heavy rain clouds he saw the outline of the great hill in the distance. A horror gripped him as his eyes fell on it. It was aflame. Great tongues of fire wreathing around the building, looking like a great dragon was perched there on the hill, roaring his displeasure at the world.

He let his eyes drift towards the village, still many miles away and his horror increased. Great fires had also been lit at the village boundaries. Black smoke was billowing up into the air for a great distance.

Seized by a fear, Merlin leapt off his horse and summoned his magic, not caring now who saw him.

" _Brūcan_ _mec_ _tō se tūn!_

His eyes flashed golden and he felt himself being pulled into a great whirlwind. The winds subsided, and after a brief second of disorientation he recognised that he was standing in the village main street.

But it was radically different. Merlin spun around on the spot, appalled by what he saw. Heaps of bodies were lying on carts outside of homes, their faces pox-ridden and agonised. Others sat whimpering in doorways, rocking back and forth, wailing as they cradled the bodies of their loved ones. The cobbled stones in the street were slick with blood. The stench of burning filled the air.

Merlin didn't hesitate. He ran forwards, ignoring the cries of the villagers, following the bright lights at the edge of the village, begging the Old Religion that he was wrong, that he was mistaken.

He reached the outer boundary, where there was a great open space, used for farmer's markets. What seemed like all the men in the village were gathered there, screaming at the top of their lungs, flaming torches carried high in the air, their faces wild and fiery red from the light of the flames.

Merlin looked to what they were all staring at, and felt himself recoil in horror. He fell backwards, leaning against the wall of the closest house, fearing he would collapse.  _No …_

Pyres. Lots of them. Each with a figure bound tightly to it. Flames licking at them mercilessly. Merlin didn't have to use his magic to sense the truth of the matter. They were dead.

He shook his head, horror completely paralysing him. All of them … the entire family and their servants.

He looked with sickening disgust at each of them. Some were painfully small …

He felt like throwing up as the stench of burning flesh reached him and the yells of the mob got louder and louder.

How could they do this? How  _anyone_  be so cruel?

He looked back up with difficulty. Why had he left? Why had he been so foolish? Lady Cassandra had trusted him to prevent this very thing. He had failed her …

Filled with a sudden rage, he moved away from the wall and pushed through the crowd, looking for one man in particular. He shook with anger.  _He would pay._

He saw him, standing before the burning pyres, his arms outstretched, a disgusting look of smugness on his face.

"It is over!" he was yelling to the baying mob. "The evil is gone from our village at last!"

"NO!" Merlin roared, pushing through to stand before him, feeling his magic boil and rage within him. "The only evil in it is people like you!"

Father Callan glared at him. "What side are you on, Emrys? You abandoned us, you could not treat this affliction! We had to take matters into our own hands!"

"You're a disgusting coward, Callan," Merlin spat. "You've murdered these people!"

"Sorcerers do not deserve to live!" he screeched, his eyes alight with fire. "They brought this upon us, and they have been sent back to hell!"

"And the children?" Merlin yelled back, trembling with anger. "The Muggles who worked there? Do you think they deserved it as well?"

"They allied themselves with evil," said Callan. "They were as equally as guilty. We have cleansed this village as the Lord commanded."

"You have murdered innocents," Merlin said, his voice dangerously low. "And you will pay for that. I hope you get this disease, you despicable man. I hope you lie in agony in your bed, dying and alone. You will realise then what a mistake you have made. Perhaps then, whatever good you may have once had will feel the tiniest bit of guilt for what you did, and I hopes it eats away at your soul for whatever remains of your pathetic life. You're the only evil one here, Callan."

The rain was still pouring down heavily, though having no effect on the burning pyres or the flaming torches wielded by the villagers.

"Don't speak like that to him!" Beorn yelled, his eyes gleaming. "He's rid us of them!"

"They were evil!"

"Unholy!"

"They deserved to die!"

Merlin listened with barely concealed rage as each of the villagers spoke their turn. This couldn't be happening, he thought to himself. There was a twisting feeling in his gut, one that threatened to consume him from within. Those happy days in Camelot had never seemed so far away as they did at this moment. This was what Muggles had been reduced to: murdering old ladies and children.

All the while, Callan kept glaring at him, that self-satisfied smile still stuck on his repellent face.

Merlin felt something snap within him. He would make that sick man  _pay-_

But before he could do anything, he heard another cry ringing out, one that was far worse, far more agonised than any he had yet heard.

The entire crowd turned around to see a tall figure riding towards them on a black horse. The figure dismounted clumsily and ran forwards, staring at the burning piles before him, horror etched into every line of his face.

The crowd was silent for a moment, as the man took in the sight before him. Merlin did not recognise him. He was young, about his early twenties, with black hair, curled close about his head and was clad all in green. His eyes, wide in his distress were emerald, and piercing. Those eyes … the last time he'd seen those was in the face of …

He turned back to the pyre, emotion rising again within him. This man was Salazar Slytherin. And he'd arrived back home to find his entire family burning before his eyes.

After another couple of moments of horrified silence, the man cried out again. "NO!"

He leapt forward, withdrawing a wand from a pocket. " _Aguamenti! Aguamenti!"_  he cried.

The flames were doused, and Slytherin ran forwards, but there was nothing to be done. He looked at the blackened forms before him with a sense of disbelief, tears filling those startling eyes.

Then, the shocked expression changed to one of absolute fury; a fury Merlin had never seen matched, even by Uther Pendragon. His eyes bulged, and he screamed as he turned to face the villagers, flames seeming almost literally to be coming from him.

"You  _traitors!"_  he screeched. "You murdering cowards! You will pay for this!"

With another cry of fury, he sent his wand slashing through the air, and unleashed a torrent of power that Merlin had not been expecting.

He raised a shield hurriedly, but still, he found himself flying through the air with everyone else around him, forced back by the pure power of the spell. He landed hard on the muddy ground and coughed, feeling the air knocked out of him and his ribs bruised.

He scrambled up as quickly as he could in the mucky ground and looked around him, numb with shock. The men he'd just been standing next to, the villagers who had burned the Slytherin family were lying in heaps on the ground. The spell had not left them as unscathed as he was. Their faces were horribly burnt, the skin peeling from their skulls, limbs were detached from bodies, seeping blood into the already sodden grass, mud and blood mixing in equal measure. Everywhere there was destruction, torsos ripped open and spilling their guts, burnt scarps of flesh smouldering in the remains of clothes.

Father Callan was lying several feet away. His body was as black as the ones on the pyres.

Merlin gasped with shock. That kind of power in one spell? He hadn't seen magic like that since …

He turned in horror to see Slytherin had started to head towards the village, his expression twisted and agonised, tears of grief and anger staining his face. He lifted his wand and pointed it towards the houses. Merlin heard screams from the women and children still in the village. He saw figures running desperately for their lives. Slytherin opened his mouth to utter a spell-

"Stop!"

Slytherin wheeled around and stared at him, surprised.

"How did you survive?" he asked, glaring at him.

Merlin ignored this. "Stop this now!" he shouted. "Leave them!"

Slytherin's face contorted with fury. "They killed them!" he screeched, gesturing to the pyres. "They destroyed my family! I will make them pay!"

"You already have!" Merlin yelled, gesturing to the carnage around his feet. "You have avenged your family! These were the guilty ones. The others are not. They are innocent!"

"And so were my family," said Slytherin, his voice dangerous. "They did nothing. I will prove to Muggles that we will  _not_ be treated like this! They stood by and  _watched!_ They will regret that!"

"No, you will regret  _this_!" Merlin yelled back, stepping closer. "Will you destroy these families like your own has been?"

"I do not care for them!" Slytherin screamed, his eyes popping. "They must suffer!"

"This is not the way to do it," said Merlin firmly, feeling the man's agony as acutely as his own. "You have killed these men. Leave their families alone. You have made your point. Let there be no more death."

Slytherin shook his head, and Merlin saw great pain on his face. "I cannot do that," he all but whispered. "They are  _scum._ "

The pain was suddenly replaced with anger once more. "You will not stand in my way, Muggle!"

He pointed his wand at Merlin instead. " _Saucia!_ "

" _Hilderand!"_ Merlin retaliated, easily repelling the spell as it came towards him. He saw Slytherin's eyes widen in outrage.

"You traitor!" he screamed. "You are a wizard!"

Merlin did not answer him. Something strange was going on here, something he'd sensed when that spell had made contact with his shield. Something that he couldn't quite believe.

Slytherin spat in his direction and turned back to the village and raised his wand once more-

" _Acwellan!_ " Merlin yelled, his hand outstretched, and Slytherin was thrown several feet backwards onto the ground.

He sprawled there for a few moments, before looking up at Merlin, utter hatred in his eyes.

"You will not harm this village," said Merlin firmly. "This is not the way. You will see that, one day."

Slytherin spat again. "You have betrayed your own kind, boy."

Merlin's eyes met his, and he once again sensed that strange feeling. He felt numb inside. It was impossible.

He shook his head. "Leave, Slytherin. This village shall be harmed no further. There must be no more death this night."

Slytherin's anger faded and was replaced by solid grief. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled back to his horse in a daze, casting one agonised look back to his family and rode off into the night.

Merlin let him go, still trying to figure out the riddle he had left behind him. It couldn't be.

He moved numbly back to the village, wandering back to his house through the death and the smoke.

He had to go after him.

He entered his home, and with one swipe of his hand, all his possessions immediately shrunk down to a tiny size and fit themselves into a satchel which he swung onto his shoulder. He lifted up the loose stone to find all his old possessions from Camelot and his magical equipment and stuffed that into the magically expanded bag as well.

He would not be returning.

He walked down the ravaged street, an odd sense of calm over him. He knew what he had to do.

He reached the opposite end of the village from where the Slytherin's were and untied a horse from the village stables and saddled it up. He attached his bag to it and attempted to mount it.

"Emrys!"

Merlin turned slowly to find several frightened villagers following in his wake. Aelbert, white and shaking approached him.

"Where are you going, Emrys?"

"I am leaving this place," Merlin said. "I cannot remain here, not in a place where such evil has occurred."

"But we need you!" another villager screamed. "The disease-"

"According to your  _logic_ ," Merlin snarled, "this disease should be gone! What have you to fear?"

He looked around at them all, his expression stony.

"I suggest you leave. Slytherin has gone for now, but if he returns he may not be as lenient. I will not save you again. You do not have their blood on your hands, but you are not entirely innocent either."

He was about to leave, when he caught sight of frightened parents clutching at sick children, and felt a stirring of sympathy, despite his anger. He looked at one of the older woman, who had been the local wisewoman before he had arrived, and quickly relayed the information the other healer had told him; he after all could not abandon innocents to this disease, despite what their parents had done. He could not stay; he knew his magic would have no effect. Something deep within him told him that he could do no more good here. He moved to get on his horse.

"No!" someone yelled, running forwards. "We won't let you go!"

Merlin threw the man back with a flash of his eyes. The villagers backed away in horrified shock.

"You're one of them," said Aelbert, pointing with a shaking hand. "You're a sorcerer!"

"What gave me away?" Merlin said coldly. He turned and mounted his horse. "Take this as a lesson, all of you. Magic is not evil, it is  _this_  that is evil. I have spared you all, remember that. Do not treat magic in this way again; you will turn those of us still on your side against you."

And with that, he pulled his horse around and galloped out of the village without looking back, following the route Slytherin had taken.

He still felt the burning rage within him, but now he channeled it into action.

He had to find Slytherin.

That magic he had used, it wasn't normal. It wasn't the usual sort used by Wand-Wielders. There was something deeper there within him, a different form of magic bubbling away inside of him. Something far deeper and far more powerful than anything Merlin had seen in this century.

He may not be welcome, but he had to try to follow him, to talk to him. This was why he'd been so drawn to the Slytherin family. This was why he'd been brought here, to discover this, though he wasn't sure what it would lead to.

He only wished finding out the reason he had been drawn here had not come at so great a cost.

The magic Salazar Slytherin had used was of the Old Religion. And Merlin was determined to find out how he had learned it.

 


	4. The Journey

It had now been a week and a half since the massacre of the Slytherins and Merlin's pursuit of the only living member, but still, answers were no clearer. He followed the Slytherin heir at a distance, trusting to his magical tracing abilities rather than Muggle tracking- he'd never been much good at that- and by his reckoning was only about half a day behind him; close enough to not lose him, yet far enough to stay hidden. As he rode, day after day in miserable weather, he mulled over what had happened.

This Slytherin man had great power; although he had used modern magic, the Old Religion was there beneath the surface, shining through at his time of primal distress. He obviously didn't know how to use it, or he would have attempted to fight Merlin with it. So how did he have it?

It was nowhere near as powerful as what Merlin had, or even some of his sorcerer friends back in Camelot, but still, this man far surpassed the abilities of his contemporaries.

It made no sense. If he was a Druidic descendant, then yes, he may have some of that power within him to a lesser degree, but Merlin didn't think so. Those descendants of the Druids never married outside their own communities, and Merlin was certain the Slytherins had not been one of those; he had not sensed even the slightest part of Old Religion magic when he had visited the Slytherin castle and met each of his family members. Stripping them of their wands would not have left them as defenceless as they obviously had been, and in any case, Druidic descendants didn't use wands, even though they were now weaker after the fall of the Old Religion.

It was a mystery that Merlin was determined to solve, no matter how long it took. He had been waiting these last three hundred years for the sign that would signal the return of the Old Religion; was this it perhaps? Was he meant to work with this man?

If so, he was going to have to be careful about it. Slytherin would not take kindly to finding Merlin following him, especially since he seemed to blame him for the death of his family. No, better to wait and observe before coming forward.

Every mile he went, thoughts of the Slytherin family were filling his thoughts. He had failed them, failed them like he'd failed Arthur. He had been their only hope, and he had made a fatal mistake. Cassandra Slytherin had been so strong; she had been wise and had seen this coming. How could such a woman have succumbed to a Muggle attack? Was nothing permanent anymore? He would never be able to save everyone; he had learned that the hard way after watching so many friends falling to the ravages of time. But he would save that noble woman's son. He was determined to do something of worth instead of the aimless wandering he had been doing for so long.

He had no idea where Slytherin was going, or even if he had a destination in mind. They seemed to be riding north, and Merlin was constantly on alert for danger. The island of Britain had become a much more savage place after Arthur's death, with constant raids from across the northern seas, and new kingdoms springing up everywhere. He passed through towns and villages as quickly as possible, hearing a multitude of strange languages he did not recognise, trying to blend in as much as possible.

It wasn't until he passed the remains of the great Roman wall that he realised just how far north Slytherin was going; into foreign lands. Shortly they would be passing into Alba, and the Gaelic speaking peoples of that land. Merlin had visited here once before many years ago, but the lands had changed a great deal since then.

He rode for several more days and watched as the landscape changed around him, from gentle rolling hills and small rivers, to steep purple hills and great lakes and valleys. The weather grew colder and the skies became more and more grey as winter began to set in. He shivered on his horse and drew his cloak further around him; just how much further was Slytherin going?

Eventually, one night, as Merlin sat by a small fire, he sensed something strange. He closed his eyes and called his magic to him, reaching out with his mind until he discovered what had changed. He opened his eyes and smiled. Slytherin had finally halted; and it wasn't just for the night, no, Merlin sensed that he had finally reached his destination.

He lay back on a ragged blanket and tried to think. What could have brought Slytherin to such a lonely and remote spot? Was there a settlement beyond those hills? Was this where he'd been these last several months?

Lady Cassandra had always said her son was just 'travelling' but Merlin suspected something deeper. He hadn't been roaming aimlessly, he'd purposefully ridden to this spot for something. And it was no small feat; in such dangerous times as these it wasn't wise to cross into foreign kingdoms where language and customs were radically different. Yes, he must have had a solid reason to come here. Lady Cassandra had said he was travelling with a friend, had they settled down here for some purpose? For what reason?

The next morning, he awoke with the sun and moved on with his horse on the final part of the journey. Slytherin must have ridden through the night, for it wasn't until midday that Merlin began to sense the presence of other people.  _Magical people._

He paused. Just through the glen ahead of him was a whole collection of magical beings. Was this some sort of meeting? He concentrated and tried to separate the magical consciousnesses to search for Slytherin's and his Old Magic. But for some reason, this was difficult. He frowned. Did this mean there were  _more_  people with the Old Religion there? It seemed impossible.

He dismounted, and led his horse by the reins, taking his time to try and fully appreciate the presence ahead of him. A couple hours of walking, and he entered into a vast forest. He felt a tingling presence of magic here, both Old and New, and he constantly kept alert, more than a little unnerved by the amount of magic in the air. He sensed magical creatures lurking in the darkness, but none dared attack him. Ever as he walked, the sense of magic increased and Merlin felt a stirring inside of him that he had long forgotten.

Eventually, he emerged from the darkness of the trees and what he saw before him made him stop dead.

Ahead of him, a dominating presence that loomed over a magnificent lake, gleaming blue to match the fullness of the sky, was a castle. Merlin gasped as he looked at it. It was  _huge_ , almost as large as the palace at Camelot. It had many turrets and towers, and hundreds of windows that gleamed in the sun. It literally took his breath away, but the building itself was not the reason why.

The entire thing was suffused with magic. It almost seemed that every brick, every stone in the castle was stepped in magic, creating a formidable aura that Merlin felt wash all over him and ignite the magic within himself. A subtle blend of Old Magic and the New.

Merlin was completely speechless. It was … impossible. How could one building hold so much power?

He sat down and leaned against a tree, just looking at the castle before him with awe. What was it doing here?

He knew without doubt that the castle was where Slytherin was now, he could feel it somehow. But why had he come here? Who lived here? Some king or warlord?

The more Merlin looked however, the more he began to notice. Despite how overwhelming his first viewing of the castle was, he began to notice the flaws. Stacks of rickety scaffolding were clustered around some of the tallest towers, which Merlin now realised weren't finished, and the quiet sound of hammer and chisel began to reach him from afar, faint in the wind. The castle was still under construction.

This was what Slytherin had been up to. He'd been here for all these months, building this magnificent castle. But for what purpose? Had he wanted a new place to live for himself and his family, away from the suspicious Muggles back home? No, that didn't make sense. Why build so far away, and in the remotest corners of another land? Was he that desperate for privacy?

And why so large? The castle could have engulfed the previous Slytherin castle three times over! Surely too large for one family? The only castles Merlin had seen larger than this had belonged to royalty. Was he working for some king of Alba?

He concentrated his mind and once again tried to infiltrate the castle, but found the magic so overwhelming that it was difficult to try and isolate a single mind. What he learned however, was that only a few people were currently inside.

Merlin had sensed the castle's magic long before he had reached it, but he had also sensed a great multitude of people. Where were they?

He cast out in every direction with his magic, searching for them, and finally he found them, a few miles to the east of the castle. Sorcerers, and lots of them.

He stood up and mounted his horse once more, casting one last look back at the castle. If he was to discover anything more, these people would be his best bet. He'd better find them.

* * *

 

About an hour later, travelling on a worn down path through thick forest, Merlin finally came to what he'd been searching for; it was a village. It looked pretty nondescript, one main street with several houses and a few merchant shops which sold cloth, food and other basic necessities. But Merlin could tell there was something more, hidden beneath the surface; everyone here was magical.

He almost smiled as he approached the place. He hadn't encountered an entirely magical village before. Even in his youth there had always been a healthy mixture of sorcerers and Muggles in every village. It was a good idea, he thought, coming ever closer to the wall which surrounded the place. At least here they wouldn't have to hide from Muggles, they would be free to practice magic as they chose. It also saddened him however. This was just another mark of how far Britain had fallen since Camelot's time; sorcerers now had to isolate themselves, and hide from the people they should be able to peacefully co-exist with. It just reminded him of how everything he had worked for had now fallen into legend and ruin.

"Halt!"

Merlin checked his horse, and smiled down at the man who had run out from a tiny guard house on the village wall. He was a wizard, judging by the magical presence that seemed to be surrounding him, but he was nervous, and he soon called on other guards to come closer. They all drew swords, but it was obvious they were unfamiliar in their hands; they used wands for a living, not Muggle weapons.

"Who are you?" the first guard demanded. "What is your business here?" he spoke in halting Latin, which Merlin found strange in itself. Since Christianity had come to Britain, Latin had become more used amongst the elite, but few ordinary people spoke it. Fortunately, Merlin did.

"My name is Emrys," he said, watching in amusement the man's surprise that he spoke the language. "I am merely passing through."

The guard turned to his friends and spoke in hurried quiet tones, in a language that sounded like a form of Gaelic, and then turned back to Merlin.

"Strangers do not pass through this village," the man said slowly, obviously searching for words. "We cannot allow you to go inside."

"Why not?"

The guard glanced to the others. "We do not trust outsiders."

Merlin almost smiled. They thought he was a Muggle, and were trying to turn him away to keep their village a secret.

"I am merely curious about that castle on the hill," Merlin said, gesturing behind him. "I thought that I could perhaps find answers here."

The man's eyes widened, and the other guards fell into whispers. "You can see it?"

"Yes," Merlin answered, wondering why they thought this so strange. "What is it?"

The guard's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You do not know?

Merlin shook his head. "I am new to these parts. I saw it, and wanted to find out what it was. Can you help me?"

The guard took a few steps forward. "Can you prove yourself?"

Merlin frowned. "Prove myself? What do you mean?"

"Prove your truth," the man said, watching him carefully.

Merlin was flummoxed for a moment; the man's Latin was obviously rudimentary and Merlin was finding it difficult to decipher. Then it struck him; the castle had been built with magic, there must be some spell around it, perhaps keeping Muggles away. The man was asking him to prove his magic, prove that he could be trusted.

He frowned. So much secrecy … these people were obviously terrified.

He withdrew his wand from an inside pocket of his robes, deciding to keep his Old Magic secret for now. The man looked at it, his eyes narrow.

" _Avaris!"_  Merlin said, and conjured a flock of birds which then flew off over the trees. The man seemed to sag with relief. He immediately became a great deal pleasanter.

"You can come in," he said, and moved out of the road. "You can find answers in the inn, maybe."

"Thank you," Merlin nodded to him, and dismounted his horse and led it through the gates. The guards watched him, still a little suspicious, but Merlin didn't look at them.

He passed along the street, and noticed just how many people were here, all using magic. If it didn't remind him of the cruel situation of the world, he might have enjoyed visiting a place where everyone was magical. A couple of people cast him curious glances, but none said anything; they knew he was no danger. He had passed the test at the gate.

The place was filled with magical energy and Merlin found himself looking around in interest, noting that the place seemed relatively new. He noticed a great many children around, and felt a great curiosity. None seemed to be attached to parents. They scrambled around playing with each other in the dirt, dressed in rags but looking reasonably well cared for. But Merlin could sense something deeper; they hadn't come here under happy circumstances.

He finally approached what appeared to be the village inn, a small shack in the centre of the street. He tied up his horse in front of it. He climbed up the creaking wooden steps and entered, finding himself in a large communal area with a roaring fire, feeling like he'd just been bathed in warmth after coming in from the bracing winds outside.

A couple people looked up when he entered, but none questioned him, and soon went back to their drinks and conversations. There must have been about forty people crammed in here, and all of them were talking hurriedly, and each of them looked grave and serious; there was no laughter here. Many bore grim faces with dead eyes, eyes that had seen too much.

Merlin sat down at one of the only remaining tables and surreptitiously surveyed the room. He listened intently. A great chorus of different languages met his ears: English, several Gaelic and British dialects, languages from the Norsemen and plenty more. The one that was constant was Latin, which seemed to serve as a common ground for people who couldn't communicate in their own tongue, though with varying degrees of success; no one was fluent. He frowned, why so many different peoples?

A barmaid came up to him and offered a smile. She asked him something, but he couldn't reply, never having heard her language before. She smiled again and mimed drinking. He nodded and she moved off to the bar, returning a moment later with a tankard of some amber liquid. He pulled some coins from pocket and offered them to her, not knowing how much to give or even if his currency would be valid in this part of the world. She picked a couple of coppers from his hand and put the drink down on the table before moving off to attend to a new arrival.

He took a drink from the tankard and was pleasantly surprised to find it was very agreeable and seemed to warm him from the inside. He sat back and finished his drink, trying to listen into as many conversations as possible. He understood only a few of the languages that were spoken, having never travelled much further north than Northumberland before. But he picked up a few:

"-getting worse everywhere," one old warlock was saying in Latin to another. "People are burning up and down the country, good honest folk with magic."

"And without," said the other. "The Muggles don't seem to care whether they get a real sorcerer or not."

"That's why I've decided to come here," the first speaker said, nodding. "At my age, even with magic it's getting harder to fight them off. I heard it's peaceful up here."

"Yes," the other man said. "They'll be putting charms over the entire valley to repel Muggles, so I've heard. It'll be our safe haven."

"But what about the others?" the first man said gravely. "Most don't get a chance to escape. And what about the Muggles that get caught in the middle? No, it's not over. The Founders can't do everything."

Merlin frowned. The Founders? He leaned into another pair who were speaking in his own tongue.

"Do you think it'll work?" a little middle-aged witch was asking a man who was evidently her husband. "Do you think such a crazy scheme will actually succeed?"

"If not, then I'll still give them credit for trying," her husband replied. "It's more than anyone's done in a long time; it's more than the Wizards' Council has bothered to do. Not since Merlin himself has there been anyone trying to do so much good in the world."

"But Merlin had the Muggles on his side, didn't he," his wife persisted. "This lot don't."

"There's nothing to be done about that," the man sighed heavily. "I doubt we'll ever return to a time when Muggles and wizards live side-by-side. Camelot's gone. But we can still make the most of the world we've got."

Merlin felt the familiar little tingle that he got whenever someone talked about him like he was some sort of hero. He was intrigued. What exactly was going on?

The man looked up and saw Merlin staring at him.

"You new?" he asked, gesturing for Merlin to come closer, which he did.

"Yes," Merlin answered.

The man nodded approvingly. "Ah, good, another English speaker. Was beginning to think Hilda and I were the only ones! But we're new ourselves, only been here a month. Where you from?"

Merlin tried not to smile when he thought of the truthful answer; how he'd shock them! He decided to just play it safe and stick to his last place of residence.

"Mercia," he said. "Near Medestamsede."

The man and his wife exchanged glances. "That's where Slytherin is from isn't it, Elred?" Hilda asked her husband.

He nodded. "Yes, the entire Slytherin family lives there."

Merlin felt a thrill of anticipation; maybe now he would get some answers.

"Not anymore," he said gravely. "The Slytherins have been dead nigh on two weeks now. Burned by the Muggles in my village."

Hilda and Elred cried out in shock. "Oh, that's awful!" Hilda said. "We'd heard there was trouble down there. Slytherin set out to try and resolve it. Is he …"

"No," said Merlin. "He didn't get back in time. He survived and made his way back north. I followed him here, back to that castle." He glanced around. "We had no idea where he'd been for so long; I guess he was up at the castle. But why? What's it being built for?"

They exchanged glances, and Elred turned to him looking a little surprised. "Haven't you heard? They're building a school!"

"A school?" Merlin repeated, frowning. "What sort of school?"

"A school of magic," Hilda said. "They want to stop all this ignorance and hatred. They're going to start training children how to use magic properly, to make sure they're safe when they go back out into the real world, so they know how to stay unnoticed."

"It's been a massive undertaking," Elred nodded. "They've invested an absolute fortune. Came up here to be as remote as possible and found an old ruined castle that they've been building up again twice as large and twice as grand as before. Hengist of Woodcroft built this village here about five years ago, and he's got an arrangement with the Founders to create this entire valley completely magical, to make it an absolute safe haven. Everyone who's been persecuted by Muggles can come here and live in peace. That's why there are so many different kinds of people here."

"And so many children," said Hilda, looking sorrowful. "Orphans from Muggle attacks most of them. Some of them are Muggle-Borns, abandoned when they started showing signs of magic. There's nowhere else for them to go, so the Founders brought them here, and they'll go to the school when they're old enough."

"The Founders?" Merlin asked, still trying to get his head around the concept of building a  _school_ of magic.

"You know one of them already apparently," Elred said. "Salazar Slytherin. He and his old friend Godric Gryffindor came here together with a couple of witches, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff and decided to build the school."

"They're very powerful," added Hilda. "They're all young, but their magic … it's incredible. What they're doing is incredible."

"And I hope they succeed," said Elred, raising his drink as though giving a toast.

Merlin made no answer, so overwhelmed was he. A school of magic? The idea seemed ridiculous. An entire building filled with children to be taught en masse?

He wasn't entirely sure what he felt about it. Teaching magic to the masses, even this weak form, seemed a little strange. When he'd been young, magic had been a privilege, something to be worked on on your own, to give yourself the thrill and joy of discovering the intricacies of the art. This seemed to be disregarding that, making magic something not beautiful and mysterious, but something that can be taught out of books in classrooms.

Then again, how helpful it would have been as a child to have someone help him, to not have to feel so alone.

Still, teaching dozens of children at once? Surely that wasn't a good idea? Magic was something inherently personal, everyone was different, everyone learned at different speeds. How could a school accommodate for that? Merlin had occasionally taken on apprentices in his time at Camelot, but never more than one or two at a time. Any more than that and he was in danger of neglecting them.

But still, there was a feeling inside that seemed to tell him this was a good idea. After all, the world had moved on. Children needed help these days. If they weren't prepared for the world, it would lead only to further bloodshed. Perhaps it could serve to teach tolerance and respect.

It seemed like an impossible task, but Merlin still had a lingering feeling inside of him as he remembered what he'd felt at first sight of the castle. The Old Religion had brought him here, and it had to be for a purpose.

And then there that Old Magic he had sensed. Slytherin had it, did perhaps the other Founders? Was that what made their magic so special? He would have to stay and find out for sure.

"Are you alright, dear?" Hilda asked.

Merlin started, realising he'd been staring into space. "Yes, I am." He smiled. "Thank you for the explanation. I think I may enjoy my stay here. Do you perhaps know where I might find some lodgings?"

"You can stay with us!" Eldred beamed. "Heaven knows, we have few enough people in this place we can talk to, we don't know any Latin you see. We've got some room if you'd like."

"I haven't much to pay you with," said Merlin. "I earn my way as a physician."

"Then you can pay your way with your herbs and remedies," Hilda said. "I need something for my poor back anyway. The village has a lack of Healers. You won't find it hard to find work."

"What do you say?" Eldred asked him, smiling again.

Merlin looked back at their friendly faces and couldn't help but grin, not having experienced such kindness in a long time.

"I say, thank you very much!"

* * *

 

**A/N:**

**Had to skim a lot over all the linguistic and cultural complexities that existed throughout Britain in the tenth century in this chapter. My lecturers are crying right now.**

**Alba: The Gaelic word for Scotland. Was used in this era for the area roughly corresponding to Scotland, and is still used today amongst Gaelic speakers. Scotland's borders haven't changed that much in the last thousand years.**

**Medestamsede: Peterborough**

**Merica: Roughly modern-day East Anglia**

**British languages: Confusing to the unitiated. British actually refers to languages like Welsh and Cornish. Gaelic (sometimes called Scots in this era, though nothing like the modern Scots language) was spoken in the north and west of Scotland.  Pictish had been spoken in the north of Scotland, but more or less died out about a hundred years before this is set. English (a Germanic language brought to Britian by the Anglo-Saxons) was spoken in most of modern-day England and the south of Scotland, although Cumbric (related to Welsh and therefore 'British') was also used in the north of England/south of Scotland. Latin was used throughout amongst scholars and church men. There were also numerous dialects. Very confusing, and not something I'll be dwelling on. Just know ... everyone speaks different languages.**


	5. The Founders

It was now a month since Merlin had arrived in the village, and he was still unable to learn much about the castle and its inhabitants. He lived quite happily with Hilda and Elred in their tiny little home, sleeping in a small but comfortable separate alcove, and he sold his remedies, now much improved as he could supplement them with magic without fear of being caught. It was quite a contented life, and Merlin thought he could be quite happy here if he constantly didn't feel uneasy at the reasons for these people's need for seclusion.

More people seemed to arrive every week, along with all manner of magical beings. All bore the scars of their suffering, but were soon made to feel welcome. Everyone here had suffered in some way, and Merlin's heart was filled with joy as he witnessed the embracing welcomes from the residents and the way everyone seemed happy to help each other. It was a lot like Camelot had been in the Golden Years. Minus the Muggles of course.

He went to the inn every night and listened to the plethora of languages and conversations spoken there, but found little new information; Hilda and Elred seemed to have told him all of it. From what he gathered, three of the Founders had lived up at the castle for several years building up their school, and Slytherin had arrived about a year ago when asked by his friend Gryffindor to help. Now he was just as enthusiastic as the rest.

Perhaps a little too enthusiastic, Merlin sometimes thought to himself. Reports he had heard from the magical masons employed at the castle told him that Slytherin had become increasingly bad-tempered and impatient since his return, desperate for the school to be finally completed. But, it was only to be expected after what he'd gone through.

Merlin had not met any of them yet; they rarely came down to the village, and Merlin had no reason to go to the castle. They were young apparently, very young, but powerful regardless. Some people whispered about their unnatural abilities, but everyone seemed trusting of them, after all, they were trying to create a safe haven for generations of future wizards and witches.

He crept up to the castle some evenings when the winter weather wasn't so harsh and just stared at it, feeling that old feeling come racing back. There was something about this castle, something greater than he could yet perceive. He sensed his destiny was entwined with these Founders, how, he wasn't quite sure yet.

They had some form of Old Magic, some strange new amalgamation of it that he had never seen before, and it intrigued him. Why had the Old Religion given them this power?

It must have a purpose, he decided, this school was  _meant_  to happen.

He'd had his reservations at first, but he'd gone over it in his mind a hundred times, and every time came to the same conclusion: he had been compelled to come here for a reason. The Old Religion had declined until a time when it would be needed once more, it couldn't be coincidence that these four people had it, that they were doing something that could influence the magical population of Britain for generations to come.

He came to the conclusion that he had to do something to help.

But how, he often wondered. He couldn't just go up to the castle and tell them who he was could he? Would they even believe him? Nevertheless, he had to do something. These people had the Old Magic, but they didn't know how to use it properly. Could he teach them? Could he figure out a way to fuse the Old and the New and help them with their school? Was this what the Old Religion had planned for him?

Yes, he decided, this was important, the sense of its importance seemed to increase every day that he spent in the village until it was an overwhelming instinct that he knew he had to follow. Whether he told them of his true identity or not, he had to help them in any way he could. But how to get them to trust him?

His chance came exactly one month after his arrival. He was sitting eating his evening meal with Hilda and Elred and planning on joining the crowds in the inn once more when there came a great hammering at the door.

Hilda leapt up, a look of fear on her face, and Merlin knew she was experiencing painful flashbacks to the time she had been run out of her village by angry Muggles.

Elred stepped up and calmly moved over to the door and opened it. "Yes? What do you want?"

A servant boy came rushing in, ignoring Elred and Hilda and looked directly at Merlin, who had now also stood up.

"You Emrys?" the boy asked, his English very heavily accented.

"Yes." Merlin replied. "Who is asking?"

"Lady Rowena," the boy said. "She want to see Emrys."

Merlin frowned. "Lady Rowena? Rowena Ravenclaw?"

"Yes," he boy said, exasperated. "At castle. She want you to go."

"Why?"

"You Healer," the boy said, glancing nervously out the door as though in a hurry. "She need you."

"She's ill?"

"No," the boy said. "Child. Needs help."

"Child?" Merlin asked, frowning. "I thought the school didn't have any students?"

"It isn't a student," said Hilda, her panic over now she saw who had knocked. "She has an infant daughter. The father was a Muggle and she was given in marriage to him to try and bring some peace between the Muggles and wizards in her home village. He was killed in a battle with Viking raiders and the people blamed her for it. She's raised the girl herself."

"Why's no one told me this before?" Merlin asked. Not once in a month of eavesdropped conversations had anyone mentioned that any of the Founders had children.

"Not important!" the boy shouted. "Child is sick. You help."

Elred smiled grimly. "Well, that's you told, Emrys."

Merlin nodded. The boy did seem insistent. "Very well, give me a few moments to get ready."

The boy nodded and seemed to sigh in relief and waited by the door watching as Merlin packed up some supplies. Merlin could hardly believe his luck; just as he'd decided to go to the castle himself, one of the Founders had asked for him personally. He only hoped he'd be able to help the child. If not, he could turn them all against him before he even had a chance to speak to them.

"Are you sure, Emrys?" Elred asked. "Lady Helga is an accomplished Healer, if there's nothing she can do, then …"

"I have to try," said Merlin. "Perhaps I know something Lady Helga does not. There's a child's life at stake."

"I wish you well," said Hilda, smiling as Merlin followed the boy out the house and on to the village main street. The boy led him to the inn where a horse was waiting.

"You go to castle now," he said, pointing to the horse. "I walk. You need go faster."

Merlin nodded, and mounted the horse quickly, noting a strange crest on the horses' reigns, but he didn't stop to examine it. He kicked the horse into action and sped along the main street, past the guards and along the country road in the direction of the castle. He hoped he wasn't too late. Not like he had been for the Slytherin family.

He rode for about half an hour until the castle's towering presence was looming over him. He couldn't help but look up at it in awe. It almost seemed to rival Camelot in size and sheer majesty.

He rode through some massive gates and up the sloping path to some stables that were built up against one of the great stone walls. A stable boy met him and took the horse away. He said something to Merlin in what sounded like a form of Gaelic, and when Merlin showed he did not understand, he merely pointed.

Merlin set off in the direction the boy had pointed, knowing that a boy with such ragged clothes as that wouldn't speak a word of Latin, and hoped to find where he was looking for. Turning a corner, he saw a pair of massive oak doors, ajar slightly with light spilling out onto the path in front.

He moved up to them, and slipped through, feeling a shudder pass through his body as though he'd just crossed some great threshold of his life. He was astounded by what he saw. A massive Entrance Hall, large enough to fit almost every house in the village into greeted his astonished eyes. Before him lay a great marble staircase leading to the floors above. Magical energy and sheer magnificent radiance shone from every corner of the place. It was incredible.

He was so busy looking around the room that he almost didn't hear the soft footsteps coming towards him. He turned to see a young woman coming from a corridor off the magnificent hall. She was watching him closely, and Merlin found himself doing the same to her. She was in her early twenties, wearing a robe of soft yellow and had a long mane of reddish blonde hair that fell about a rather round and pleasant looking face that looked as though it was prone to much laughter. However, at this moment, the face looked grave and upset.

"You are Emrys?" she asked, her English was almost without accent. She didn't take her pale blue eyes off his face for an instant.

"I am," he responded. "And to whom am I speaking?"

"I am Lady Helga," she responded, a small smile crossing her features.

Merlin wasn't surprised. He'd sensed her magic long before he'd seen her. His suspicions had been right; more than one of the Founders possessed Old Magic. His feeling that this was his destined path grew.

"Pleased to meet you, Lady Helga," he said, making a small bow in her direction; she was obviously of noble birth and he hoped to ingratiate himself with her. "I only wish it were under more pleasant circumstances."

"As do I," she said, and glanced almost nervously up the marble staircase. She turned to him again and frowned. She took a step closer, a small crease on her brow, looking at him curiously.

"Have we met before?" she asked.

Merlin almost smiled. She could sense the magic within him, sense the familiarity of the Old Religion, her own magic recognising it as kin.

"No, my Lady," he said.

Her frown deepened. "I could almost swear-"

"Helga!"

Merlin turned, sensing yet more Old Magic behind him and saw a young man almost bouncing towards him. He had magnificent red hair that fell to his shoulders and a beard to match that covered a strong chin. He too looked as if he had a cheery face that loved to laugh, but was now marred with sadness. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Merlin, appraising him. Merlin stared back with a look of determined innocence. This man, he too was filled with Old Magic.

"You're Emrys?" the man asked, evidently a native English speaker unlike Lady Helga. "I'd have thought you'd be older!"

Merlin almost snorted.  _Yes, three hundred isn't that old …_

"With all due respect, my Lord," he said noting that the man couldn't be much more than twenty, "you're not that old yourself."

The man, who was obviously Godric Gryffindor chuckled, and some of the gloom was lifted. "I like a man with direct honesty."

Merlin waited patiently while the two seemed to examine him. He had to be careful here, he had to get them to trust him. The magic inside of him was roaring so fiercely it was almost difficult to control. He felt a thrill of excitement.

"Can you help the child?" Lord Godric asked, the seriousness back.

"Perhaps," Merlin said. "I've spent many years studying medicine."

Lord Godric raised his eyebrows. "Years? When did you start studying? Before or after you were weaned?"

"He is older than he looks," Lady Helga said, moving around to face him once more. Her eyes seemed to be boring into him. "I sense there is more to him than meets the eye, Godric."

Lord Godric glanced at her, and seemed to take her comment in all seriousness. He looked back at Merlin, a new found respect in his eye. Merlin waited with bated breath. He had to be careful.

Lord Godric glanced to his right and spoke: "Ah, Salazar! The Healer from the village is here!"

Merlin felt a cold seeping through him. This could be messy.

He turned and saw to his unease, Salazar Slytherin moving towards him, a shocked expression marring his face and a disbelief radiating off of him. He stopped dead.

"You!" he cried, an angry fire igniting in his eyes. He withdrew his wand hurriedly. "You  _dare-_ "

"Salazar!" cried Lady Helga, whipping out her own wand. "What are you doing?"

"He was there!" Slytherin cried, his eyes almost popping from his skull. "He was there the night my family were killed. He watched and did nothing!"

"Is this true?" Lord Godric asked sharply, also withdrawing his own wand, though seemingly unsure whether to point it at Slytherin or Merlin.

"I lived in that village yes," Merlin said. "But I didn't stand back and do nothing. I was away from the village, and when I returned, it was too late."

"A likely story!" Slytherin hissed, glaring at Merlin. "I  _saw_   you!"

"I was trying to stop them," Merlin said, staring him straight in the eye. "But I was too late, I arrived only minutes before you did."

Slytherin raised his wand, but Merlin drew his just as quickly and pointed it at him. "Don't do this," he said. "It was not my fault. All I did that night was to prevent you making a grave mistake."

Even as he said these words, Merlin knew he was not entirely truthful. Slytherin's mother had trusted him to protect her family, and he had failed. It still stung him deeply.

Slytherin's face seemed to contort with even more fury, though tinged with an agony that hadn't quite healed in the six weeks since his family's deaths. "I wanted them to suffer!"

"And you would have ruined yourself in the process," Merlin said calmly. "Would killing innocent women and children have brought back your family? They did nothing, the ones who did were punished. Doing more would have been plain vindication, not justice. You know that now, don't you? You're glad that I stopped you."

Slytherin continued glaring at him for the longest time, his wand hand actually shaking with repressed emotion. Finally, he lowered it. He still looked angry however, though not at Merlin. It was the memories alone that made him angry.

"You never told us that part of the story, Salazar," Lady Helga said softy, also lowering her wand.

Slytherin looked away from her. "I wanted to spare you the gruesome details, Helga. I knew you would not be pleased with me if you'd discovered what I'd almost done to those people."

She tilted her head in sympathy. "I would have understood, Salazar. You need conceal nothing from us."

Slytherin made no answer. He seemed to be trying to control his emotions. His hands were still shaking.

"It is no coincidence that you are here, is it?" Lord Godric asked of Merlin, still with his wand held loosely in his hand.

"No," Merlin admitted, deciding to be honest with them. "I followed Lord Salazar here."

Slytherin looked around sharply. "Why? Did you feel guilt at what happened in the village during your convenient absence?"

"No," said Merlin, calmly, though again, this was not entirely true. "I sensed something within you, something I have not sensed in a long time. It intrigued me. So I followed you to find out what it was, and here I have discovered that it is something you all possess."

"And what is that?" Lord Godric asked, his eyes suspicious.

Merlin looked at them all evenly. "The magic of the Old Religion."

They were deadly silence for a few moments. They stared at him, their jaws almost hanging open.

Lord Godric's eyes were wide. "That is ridiculous. What on earth makes you think-"

"Please, do not insult my intelligence," said Merlin, interrupting. "I know that you know you possess it. The entire castle is filled with it. For some reason, the Old Religion has chosen the four of you to build this school and has granted you some of the Old powers in addition to the New. You've been studying it, haven't you? It's what has brought you together. You've been trying to make sense of it, without success. You will fail. The Old Religion is far more complex than you realise."

"You seem to know a lot about it," Slytherin observed, still watching Merlin with a barely concealed cold glare.

"I can help you with it," Merlin said, looking at each of them in turn. "I can teach you how to use it properly. How to create spells with both the power of the Old and New. I can help you in every way possible, help you make sense of these gifts."

"And how could you possibly do that?" Lord Godric asked him, though regarding him with an increasing sense of wonder.

"Because I'm the last practitioner of Old Magic in these lands," Merlin said. "And it is my destiny to teach you to use it."

"Impossible."

Merlin turned as he heard another voice, this one also slightly accented, and looked to the top of the marble staircase where stood the lone figure of a woman.

Merlin's first thought was that she was a woman of severe sadness and loneliness. She was beautiful, with long dark hair and sparkling intelligent eyes, and was clothed in a deep blue gown that fell around her feet. She held herself regally, and had the appearance of haughtiness, but there was something deeper there. Merlin had the sense that she was a woman of great wisdom, but one who secluded herself from others, aloof and unwilling to let down her guard.

She moved swiftly down the steps towards him, and her eyes, stained red from crying, met his and he felt a thrill he couldn't quite explain. Lady Helga's gaze was perceptive, but this woman's seemed to be able to see right into his soul. He was briefly lost for words.

"Impossible," the woman repeated. "The last user of the magic of the Old Religion died out with the Druids. There are none that remain."

"I assure you, my Lady," Merlin said, not taking his eyes off her face. "I am perfectly genuine."

She raised her eyebrows. "Do you think I am a fool? I say you are nothing but a charlatan."

"And I say that you should give me a chance before you dismiss me entirely, Lady Rowena," Merlin said, guessing at the woman's identity. "You have the Old Religion within you, as do you all. You can sense it within me as well, can you not?"

"I trust to solid facts, Emrys," Lady Rowena said to him, her voice detached. "Not to feelings."

 _Yes_ , Merlin thought _, here is a woman afraid to let her emotions guide her_.  _She follows her mind, not her heart._

"Very well," Merlin said, still focusing on her. "I will show you my abilities. Take me to the child, and I will prove to you that my magic is more than that of the modern day."

Her eyes narrowed. "Do you think I will allow a man with such outlandish claims near my daughter?"

"You sent for  _me_ , my Lady," Merlin reminded her.

"Only because Helga was unable to help," Lady Rowena responded quickly. "I heard tell from the village that a Healer had settled there. Do not flatter yourself, Emrys. I sent for you as a last resort. And now I'm not sure I want you here."

"Pity," said Merlin. "Because I'm sure I would be able to convince even your sceptical mind of my truthfulness if only given a chance."

Lady Rowena seemed unmoved. "What you say is impossible. The laws of magic do not allow it."

Merlin sent her a wry smile. "Rules can be bent, my Lady."

He turned to Slytherin before Lady Rowena could respond. "The magic I used when I stopped you from killing those people," he said. "Did you see me use a wand? Did you see the kind I used? It was not the magic that others use. You must have sensed it."

Slytherin frowned, and for a moment, the hatred was gone and was replaced by confusion and a thoughtful expression. He did not answer.

"Why are we supposed to trust you?" Lord Godric asked, still looking suspicious.

"Because I'm the only one remotely capable of helping that child," Merlin responded. "Give me a chance to prove to you that I am a sorcerer of the Old Religion."

Lady Rowena looked ready to retort angrily, but a soft cry stopped her. Merlin felt a great stirring in his heart as he listened to one melodious note of a beautiful song that seemed to echo around all of the castle. All the Founders were struck dumb.

Then, in a flash of red and gold, a swan sized bird swooped down and circled the gathered men and woman in the hall, singing its beautiful song, its magnificent plumage ruffling in a slight breeze. A phoenix, Merlin thought, transfixed. He hadn't met one before, such was their rarity.

"Come here!" Lord Godric called, frowning to the bird. "Come now, here!"

But the bird would not listen, and sailed over Lord Godric's shoulder and immediately towards Merlin, alighting there on his shoulder, crooning softly. Merlin stiffened with surprise as he felt the presence of the Old Religion in this bird. It recognised him as kin. It rubbed its soft feathers against his cheek and Merlin couldn't help but smile.

The Founders gaped at him in astonishment.

"But-" Lord Gryffindor stammered. "How-"

"Phoenixes are remarkably intelligent animals, with perfect instincts," smiled Lady Helga. "This is all the proof I need. The bird would not have come to you if you had lied to us. You are who you say you are."

Slytherin stared at it bewildered. He began to look at Merlin in a new light, though with still a degree of coldness.

Lord Godric cleared his throat gruffly. "Well, I suppose … phoenixes are remarkable judges of character. If he thinks you are to be trusted … then who am I to argue?"

Merlin grinned, but only one opinion mattered to him at this particular point. He turned back to Lady Rowena, who was regarding the bird with a scholarly expression of interest.

"And you, my Lady?" Merlin asked softly. "Will you trust me?"

Lady Rowena frowned, and seemed to be genuinely lost for words. Her eyes snapped back to Merlin's as though she was trying to read his mind.

The bird squawked once more, and Lady Rowena glanced at it again.

Finally, she relented.

"Very well," she said, staring at him intently. "Who am I to question such an intelligent creature? I will take you to her. No further harm could be done in any case. I fear there is nothing to be done for her now."

She hid her emotion well, but Merlin could see her immense grief and fear there bubbling away behind her eyes.

"I think, my Lady," he said quietly, "that you underestimate the power of the Old Religion."

And with that, Lady Rowena swept back up the marble staircase, and Merlin followed, the bird swaying on his shoulder.

The first part was over. All he had to do now was heal the child ad prove his worth to them.

He only prayed that it would not be too late.


	6. Gaining Trust

Merlin tried to quell the beating of his heart as he followed the Lady Rowena through the corridors of the school and focus on his task, but he was finding it difficult. He couldn't help but look around in wonder as he passed grand staircases, exquisite carvings and wondrous feats of architecture. And above all, he felt the overwhelming presence of powerful magic that was present in every inch of it. The castle truly was a magnificent accomplishment, and even though it was but half-finished, with some parts roped off and filled with building debris, Merlin had no doubt that this castle would be a wonder when it was completed and remain standing for a long time indeed.

The other three Founders were also following, watching him closely as he examined the place with increasing awe, perhaps seeking his approval or just defensive of the thing they had evidently worked so hard to build. Merlin tried to ignore them as much as possible and instead focused on following the Lady Rowena as she hurried with grace to wherever her daughter was lying.

Eventually, Lady Rowena halted and pushed open a heavy door and began leading Merlin up a steep spiral staircase, and he suddenly realised he was in one of the towers. They emerged into a beautiful room, with wide windows on every side which would offer beautiful views of the lake in the day time. It was spacious and filled with light coloured furniture and blue tapestries on the walls in between extensive bookshelves. He barely had time to admire the room, when Lady Rowena led him to a door at the side.

"She's through there," Lady Rowena said, pointing, her face still carefully guarded of emotion.

Merlin nodded and moved over to the door and pushed it gently open. Inside there was a spacious and pleasant room filled with many embroidered wall hangings and chests. In the centre stood a handsomely carved bed with more blue coverings. In the bed, dwarfed by the sheer size of it, was a young girl.

He quickly crossed the room to get a better look. There was a servant woman sitting by the bed with the child's hand in hers. She glanced to the Founders who had entered the room behind Merlin, and when they nodded, she stood, curtsied and left the room, blinking exhaustion out of her eyes, looking worriedly at the child before she disappeared from view.

Merlin pulled back the heavy bed covers to examine the child better. She was very young, perhaps only about three or four years old, with long dark hair damp with sweat. Her thin nightgown clung to her fevered body.

Merlin's heart stopped when he looked at the rash and sores that were developing on her face and neck. He had seen this before.

His despair must have shown on his face, for Lady Rowena ran forwards desperately and grabbed hold of her daughter's hand on the opposite side of the bed from Merlin. She looked up at him, her mask of controlled emotion replaced with pain.

"You've seen this before haven't you?" she whispered. "There's nothing you can do."

Merlin fixed her with a determined stare. "I have. But I am not beaten yet."

"What is this disease?" Lady Helga asked, moving over to Lady Rowena to place a comforting arm around her. "I have not seen its like before."

"Neither had I until about two months ago," Merlin said, still examining the girl. "It's a new pox that is sweeping across the country. The red plague, some are calling it."

"Is there anything to be done?"

Merlin sighed heavily. "I have only treated one case before, and that was also of a young girl. I'm afraid I couldn't save her."

At this Lady Rowena let out a strangled sob and clutched ever tightly to the girl. Merlin looked to Slytherin who was hanging back in the doorway with Lord Godric. "This was the disease that decimated the village you came from. It was the reason they turned against your family. They thought it was a plague sent from God to punish them."

Slytherin's face looked pained again. "Perhaps they were right," he said softly. "We are just as defenceless against it as the Muggles."

"Perhaps not," Merlin said. He placed a hand on the girl's brow. "Not everyone dies from this disease, and I have had the opportunity to study it a little further. I may be able to do something." He smiled grimly. "And besides, the last girl was a Muggle, and her parents would accept no help from a sorcerer. I didn't try and use magic until near the end. Perhaps now, I will have a better chance."

He turned away from the bed and moved over to a small table and emptied the things he had brought with him on to it. He picked up herbs, and potions and other ingredients and threw them all together so fast he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing. He didn't know the cure for the disease, he had no idea, but somehow, everything seemed to fall into place. He seemed to  _know_  what to do, in his heart if not his mind.

The Founders were watching him carefully, but Merlin ignored them. For some reason, he had absolute faith in what he was doing. He gathered up the mix of ingredients, and put it into a small bag, drawing the string tightly to form a poultice.

He crossed over to be bed, and gently lifted up the girl's pillow and placed the poultice underneath her head. Lady Rowena watched him like a hawk.

When he had laid the girl back down again, he placed a hand on her brow and closed his eyes. He summoned his magic to him, more powerfully than he had done for centuries. He let it flow through his body in a mad torrent, filling him up like it hadn't done for so long. He felt it boiling and rising up within his veins until almost ready to burst from his skin. He felt the Old Religion strongly within him. This was what it wanted. He had to save this child if he was to get the Founders to trust him. The child would be saved by it, and he had to have faith in it. He had the power within him to save her; this was a part of his long awaited destiny.

He opened his eyes and incanted: " _Hālian_ _þās_ _geong mǣdencild of se ageful ādl. Hēo_ _īs_ _sundorgiefu_ _to se middangeard. Beorgan hiere."_

At once, his eyes burned golden, prompting gasps from some of the Founders, and he felt the powerful magic spilling from him in a great wave. The entire bed glowed golden as the magic within the poultice began to spread and engulf the child. For a moment, the girl was entirely obscured by a golden light and Lady Rowena fell back in shock. Finally, the light subsided, and the girl lay there as before, but now, the fever was gone, the rash and sores were vanished leaving not a trace on her skin, and she breathed steadily and without pain.

Lady Rowena approached the bed in wonder. She took hold of a hand again and stroked her face tenderly. "Helena? Can you hear me?"

Slowly, and as if waking from a peaceful dream, the girl's eyes opened and she blinked blearily. She turned her head slightly to look at her mother.

"Mama?"

"Helena!" cried Lady Rowena and she pulled her daughter into a tight embrace, sobbing unrestrainedly while the child buried her face in her mother's robes.

Merlin smiled wearily and stepped backwards as all the Founders also approached the bed, joy in each of their faces. He decided to leave them alone to their tender moment and stepped outside the room. He leaned against a wall and breathed heavily. He hadn't done magic that powerful in a long time.

It felt good, he decided. He didn't often get a chance to practice his magic to its fullest extent; it aroused too much suspicion. And that child was more important than he had realised at first. The Old Religion had chosen to spare her, when it had allowed the other girl to die. There had to be a reason for that. He'd been brought to the school for a greater purpose.

The door opened next to him, and Lady Helga stepped out looking for him. She smiled sweetly when she saw him, and all the worry that had been in her face before was gone.

"You are a miracle worker, Emrys," she said. "I could not do it."

"With all due respect, my Lady," Merlin said. "You have not yet embraced the full power of the Old Magic within you."

"True," Lady Helga said. "And you tell me that you could do something to remedy that?"

"Yes, Lady Helga, I could."

She smiled warmly. "Please, there is no longer any need for such formalities. You have saved my goddaughter from a lingering death. You have earned the right to be my friend."

Merlin smiled as well. "I am honoured … Helga."

She stepped forwards a little. "How did you know we possessed such magic? We barely know anything of it ourselves. We all realised during building this school that our magic in unlike others, and we have barely begun to scratch the surface in understanding these strange gifts we have."

"I can help you there."

"Why would you?" Helga asked curiously. "Why come all the way here?"

"Because I sense something greater at work here," Merlin answered. "I know that I have been brought here for a reason."

"And that reason is to teach us?" Lord Godric and Slytherin had also appeared in the doorway, allowing Lady Rowena some time alone with her daughter. "How can you do that? I thought all knowledge of the Old Religion had faded away?"

"Not with me, it hasn't," Merlin said.

The three Founders exchanged curious glances, but seemed to accept it. Lord Godric nodded. "Very well," he said. He frowned. "I do not know what it is that compels me to trust you, but it is very strong, and I always trust my instincts."

 _The Old Religion,_ Merlin answered for him silently.  _It is stronger within you than you yet realise. Trust it._

"You must stay here at the castle," said Helga, smiling again. "I'm not sure we'll have much time for being taught ourselves at the moment with all the work we're doing for the school, but I for one shall welcome your company."

"And I," said Lady Rowena, appearing in the door as well, her face flushed. She looked him up and down shrewdly. "You may have earned my trust, but there is something about you that you still keep secret. You are a mystery, and there are few of those I cannot solve. I wish to learn more about you."

Merlin bowed slightly, feeling a slight tingle inside as she looked at him with those calculating eyes. "I invite you to try, my Lady."

She looked as though she was about to argue, but a soft cry from the bed drew her attention and she turned back. Slytherin also left, heading down the staircase they had come up, still staring suspiciously at Merlin. Lord Godric clapped him on the back and soon followed Slytherin, but Merlin barely acknowledged his gratitude; Slytherin still did not trust him.

"You must give him time," Helga said, laying a soft hand on his arm. "He has suffered a lot these last few months. He was exceptionally close to his family. He doted on his cousin's child. He took their murders badly."

"I know," said Merlin heavily. "I have seen it many a time before. I only hope he can learn to trust me."

She smiled again, and his burdens suddenly seemed lighter. She turned him slowly and looked him in the eye, stretching one hand up to touch his face gently, her expression serious as she seemed to examine him.

"I cannot make you out," she said softly, turning his head slightly. "I have a Gift you see. I can See things others can't. But with you … nothing, like your future is so wrapped up in destiny that one as powerless as I could not hope to unravel it. Rowena was right, you are a mystery. But I will not attempt to figure you out."

"You won't?" Merlin asked wryly. "You are not curious then?"

She laughed softly. "Oh, yes, I am. But unlike Rowena, I do not seek to understand the entire world and everything in it. I don't follow facts and figures, studying books and maps to improve my mind. Some things in this world are better left a mystery, and accepting that, and taking joy in them regardless is what I consider to be true wisdom. You are a good man, that much I can tell, and I shall trust in that. I do not have to understand what bravery, loyalty, love and kindness are to know that they are worthy traits. As long as you have those, I care not what secrets you hide, for none could affect your true self, and that is what I see, and what I saw in that room. I will trust you."

Merlin couldn't help but grin as he listened. He felt more at ease with her than he had felt with anyone in a long time. There was a slight pang of sadness as he thought of another woman that Helga reminded him of, Gwen, who also cared only what lay within a person. He knew he could trust this woman. He knew that here was a woman he could call friend.

She smiled. "Now, I shall lead you to some chambers where you may live for now. I will have your things in the village sent for."

"The people who took me in were very kind," Merlin said. "I should like to show my gratitude."

"They will be well looked after," Helga said. "I always reward kindness where I find it."

Merlin did not doubt it. Here was a woman who seemed incapable of deceit and treachery, and alone among her fellow Founders seemed willing to place some blind trust in him.

He almost sighed as he thought of the great secret he was carrying. He only hoped her trust in him was not misplaced.

* * *

 

Merlin was led to a small but comfortable room in one of the completed parts of the castle by a young servant, unable to speak any English. He reclined back on the soft bed in his chambers, luxuriating in the feeling of a feather pillow instead of the straw ones he'd had to make do with since he left Camelot.

He smiled almost ruefully as he looked around. This one room, small though it was, was still larger than any house Merlin had lived in for the last three hundred years. A roaring fire he hadn't had to light himself, soft and clean bed linen, glass in the windows rather than cloth, a chimney rather than a hole in the roof, tapestries on the walls and rugs on the floor … yes, this was luxury. Far more than he had experienced in a long time.

About an hour after he had arrived in the room, there was a knock at the door, and in came a strange little creature that Merlin did not recognise. It had large bat-like ears and a long nose, dressed in clean but plain rags. It bowed deeply.

"Mistress Helga sends me to say that your things are here, Master Emrys!" the creature squeaked, standing back and pointing to a few bags behind him that amounted to all of his possessions. "I has also brought some clean clothes for you, sir, since you do not have many."

Merlin laughed. "True, when you travel as much as I do, there's not much call for a large wardrobe."

The creature giggled nervously. "You has plenty now, sir. Will sir be wishing for anything else?"

"Yes, just one thing," smiled Merlin, still intrigued. "What is your name? And if you don't mind me asking, what manner of creature are you? I have never seen your like before."

The creature looked astonished to be asked, but happy at the same time. "I is Tenga, sir. I is a house-elf!"

"A house-elf?" Merlin asked bemused.

"Yes, sir!" Tenga said eagerly. "We is liking helping wizards! We like to work! We work for wizarding families all our lives."

Merlin was a little disturbed. "Isn't that a bit like slavery?"

"Oh no, sir!" the house-elf cried, looking appalled at the idea. "We is liking it, sir. It is making us happy."

"I used to be a servant," said Merlin, "and I never liked it."

"With all due respect, sir," said the elf seriously, "you is not a house-elf."

Merlin laughed. "No, I suppose I'm not." He examined the creature a little longer. "Well, I suppose it's entirely up to you. If It makes you happy, who am I to object?"

The house-elf grinned. "It makes Tenga very happy, sir." His ears drooped a little. "This is not a good time for being a house-elf, sir. Muggles is not liking us, they say we are demons, but all we are wanting to do is help. Mistress Helga saved us."

"Really?' Merlin asked intrigued. "And how did she do that?"

"She brought us here," said Tenga. "She is finding as many house-elves as she can and is bringing them to the castle to keep them safe. There is over a hundred of us now, sir. She is being very kind to us, and is teaching us how to make lots of food for when the students is arriving. We are very lucky to have her."

Merlin smiled. He had been right about his instincts; it appeared Helga Hufflepuff was a truly kind soul. He hoped he'd get to know her better.

"She sounds like a magnificent woman," said Merlin. "And I'm very much looking forward to spending some time in the castle. At least now I have two here that I may call friend."

The creature's eyes lit up. "Master is calling Tenga a friend?" he asked, tears welling up in his bulbous eyes. "Tenga has  _never_  met a wizard who wanted to be friends with a house-elf before!"

Merlin grinned. "I'm not like normal wizards. Can we be friends?"

Tenga grinned. "Yes, sir. I would be liking that very much."

"Good, it's settled." Merlin said, finding himself increasingly happy as he saw the creature's joy.

The house-elf bowed and left, and Merlin found himself alone, thinking hard. Yes, there was much that he had to do here. And from what he could tell of Helga and Tenga, he would at least have some friendly faces to see every day.

He only hoped the other Founders would be as easily swayed.


	7. Getting Acquainted

Merlin awoke the next morning feeling oddly at ease. He lay in his luxurious bed for several minutes just staring up at the carved ceiling, breathing deeply and thinking intensely. He could feel the power of the Old Religion embracing him as he lay there and he smiled. The castle was filled with it. As were its Founders.

Would he be able to teach them? The Old Religion had guided him here for a purpose and that must be to help these people discover more about their abilities. But why? Did that mean that the Old Religion was finally ready to return to the world? That these people would be able to teach it to others, and the world would once again embrace the Old Ways?

He couldn't be too hopeful, he reminded himself. He couldn't just seize the first opportunity that came along like a blind man searching for a walking cane. He had to be careful.

There was a tiny knocking at the door.

"Come in!" Merlin called, hurriedly swinging his legs out of bed. The door opened and in scurried the house-elf from the night before, a large tray balanced on his head with a mountain of food on it.

"You didn't need to do that!" Merlin said, uncomfortable as the elf placed the bowls and plates on a small table by the fire. "Really, I can get my own food." Even in Camelot, after his promotion he'd never embraced having his own servants.

"Tenga wanted to thank sir for his kind words last night!" Tenga squeaked happily, continuing without pausing.

"They weren't  _that_  kind," Merlin said, looking at the generous helpings on the many plates.

"They were kinder than Tenga has ever heard from a wizard before!" Tenga answered. "Save Mistress Helga, of course."

"You can't have met many decent wizards before then," Merlin noted, sitting himself down at the table.

Tenga giggled nervously. "No sir, I hasn't."

Then his face went pale. "Tenga shouldn't have said that!  _Bad_ Tenga!"

And then suddenly, Tenga raced over to a chest of drawers and began to hit his head against it.

"Hey!" Merlin called, and seized him away from the chest. "What are you doing?"

Tenga paused a moment, his eyes a little unfocused. He shook himself.

"Thank you, sir. Tenga is still not used to having a new family, sir."

"What do you mean?"

Tenga bit his lip. "House-elves is serving families, sir, the same family for many generations. We is not allowed to speak ill of them, if we do, we must punish ourselves. Tenga's family was killed by Muggles just before Mistress Helga is bringing him here. We is still not used to our new family. Mistress Helga says we is not to punish ourselves. Here we is to be safe, she says."

Merlin nodded, still a little shocked. "Your families have that much control over you? You can't even talk ill of them?"

Tenga nodded. "Tenga's last family … they was … they was  _bad_  wizards, but Tenga had to serve them anyway. Tenga is lucky to have a good mistress now."

"Couldn't you run away or something?"

Tenga shook his head. "House-elves are bound to their families until they die, or are set free, sir, and not many of us is being set free."

"That's awful," frowned Merlin. "Don't you want to be free?"

"Oh no, sir!" the elf said, his large eyes wide. "We like work!"

"But what if you get a bad family?"

"Most families is bad, sir,' Tenga said, his ears drooping. "House-elves is being treated like scum by most wizards."

"That's wrong," Merlin said, completely outraged. "That shouldn't be."

"But many of us is with the Founders now, sir," Tenga said, immediately happier. "Tenga has never been happier!"

Merlin smiled, but was still outraged in his heart. "Where are the Founders anyway?"

"Mistress Rowena is with her daughter, who is still in bed," Tenga said, beginning to tidy up the room a little. "Master Salazar is in the dungeons making potions, but Master Godric and Mistress Helga said to meet them in the Entrance Hall after breakfast. They want to show you the school."

"Really?" Merlin asked, interested, sipping some water from his goblet. "I'd be delighted to see more of the castle."

"It is a beautiful place!" Tenga said joyously, "much better than other castles. When it is finished all other house-elveswill be dying to work here! A place we can be proud of. A great honour for us."

Merlin smiled, amused by the elf's enthusiasm. Tenga scurried around the room a few moments longer, tidying away the items Merlin had casually thrown aside the night before; he'd never been particularly tidy, even now in his old age.

"You said Master Salazar was in the dungeons?" Merlin asked, casually. "Does he often go there?"

"Oh yes, sir," answered Tenga. "He's always making potions. Even more so since he came back. He likes to be alone."

"What sort of a man is he?"

"A good man!" Tenga said, his head bobbing up and down. "Master Salazar is very good to house-elves; even when he's in a bad mood he doesn't be nasty to us."

"Is he often in a bad mood?"

Here, Tenga paused and looked doubtful. "Not often, sir," he answered. "Only since he came back from his home. He grieves for the family the bad Muggles took away."

 _So do I_ , thought Merlin silently, remembering the brief glimpses he'd had of the Slytherin household and the children there. But he said none of this.

"And aside from that, he's …"

"He is not as friendly as the others," said Tenga. "Mistress Helga and Master Godric is always laughing and joking, but he's quieter. Some people think he's aloof, but Tenga just thinks he is shy. Very clever though. He's almost as clever as Mistress Rowena!"

"And how clever is she?" Merlin asked, amused at all the information he was getting out of the tiny elf. He'd always observed since his time in Camelot that servants always knew more about their masters than anyone else, and were always a wealth of gossip. The same, it seemed, applied to house-elves.

"Oh, very clever," said Tenga, looking very proud. "She reads all day and speaks lots of different languages. She's like Master Salazar, neither of them like being in big groups and isn't often that friendly. But she is very kind to her daughter, and Miss Helena likes to play with us elves. When we isn't working, obviously," Tenga added hastily, as though worried Merlin would suspect him of being neglectful of his duties.

Merlin finished his breakfast and Tenga began to clear it away, balancing the bowls and plates on the tray on his head without difficulty. Merlin watched with a smile on his face; if only he'd had that ability in Camelot, it would have made his job a whole lot easier.

He stood up and moved over to the window, where Tenga had pulled back the heavy drapes a few moments previously. He had a magnificent view of the grounds and lake, covered in a sheer frost, with the lake shining a deep blue in the weak winter sun. The great forest stretched back for many miles and up the sides of the mountains surrounding the castle. He literally felt his breath be taken away; this place was magnificent.

"Master Emrys?" the elf called, and Merlin turned to see Tenga by the door, balancing the tray on his head. "If sir would like to get changed, Tenga will show him the way back to the Entrance Hall on his way back to the kitchens. Mistress Helga and Master Godric will already be waiting."

"Of course," nodded Merlin, and the elf left the room to wait outside. Merlin crossed over to the chest of drawers where Tenga had placed his clothes the night before. He rummaged through them, discarding each; his old clothes were far too shabby for a castle like this, and the noble Founders. If he was to retain their trust, he had better look the part.

He instead withdrew some of the newer clothes Tenga had also left him, and quickly dressed himself. He examined himself in a mirror on the wall, and couldn't help but be startled. He was wearing robes of the softest material, obviously very expensive and of high quality. He liked the feeling of the material; it was pure luxury after the coarse clothing he'd been wearing for so long, but something didn't feel right. He was no nobleman, he never had been. He was a peasant, and always would be at heart; even in Camelot, he hadn't liked wearing the Court regalia. He felt like an imposter. He'd been a peasant so long it would be strange to be powerful and influential once more.

He shook himself out of this daydream however, he couldn't waste time. He pulled on his old worn boots, just for comfort, and finished dressing by putting his wand in a deep pocket. He sighed as he did so; he hated using the wand, but it was necessary. Despite the fact that he knew the Founders had the magic of the Old Religion and he had to teach them how to use it, he wasn't sure he was quite prepared to let them know just how powerful he truly was. At least, not yet.

He opened the door and stepped out into the corridor, and found Tenga waiting. With a huge grin, Tenga scurried off down the corridor, leaving Merlin hard-pushed to keep up. He looked around as he did so. The castle was even more impressive in the daylight. There were many winding staircases and twisting corridors, and if not for Tenga, Merlin knew he would be hopelessly lost. Tenga never faltered in his step, waddling confidently in front, the plates on his head wobbling dangerously yet never falling. Eventually they came back to the marble staircase and Merlin descended, feeling even more impressed with the castle.

"I must go now, Master Emrys!" Tenga called. "I is hoping to be seeing you again soon!"

"Me too," smiled Merlin, and the house-elf turned off into another corridor off the Entrance Hall, where presumably the kitchens were located. He barely had time to wonder what to do now when he heard someone calling him. He turned to find Lord Godric and Helga coming towards him, both dressed warmly for the cold weather. Merlin gave a slight bow as they approached.

"Did you sleep well, Master Emrys?" Lord Godric asked cheerfully.

"Yes, very," said Merlin. "Your castle is a wonder."

Lord Godric laughed a great booming laugh and clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "You know your flattery! Come, what do you really make of it?"

"I speak the truth, my Lord," said Merlin. "I am amazed, both by the architecture and the magic that seems to permeate every stone. I am deeply impressed."

Lord Godric laughed once more. "Trying to get in our good books, eh? That won't win you any favour!"

But Merlin could see he was greatly thrilled by Merlin's comments. He had obviously hoped for his approval; he must not have had much opportunity to show the place off before.

"We will be thrilled to show you around," said Helga, smiling at him. "We have not had cause for visitors before, and if you are to assist us with our magic, you should know as much about this place as possible."

"I quite agree," said Merlin. "I cannot wait to learn more of what you have in store."

"Helga and I shall show you the place," said Lord Godric. "Rowena is still with Helena and Salazar is off brewing potions in that foul mood of his."

"I know," said Merlin. "Tenga told me."

"Tenga?" Lord Godric asked, a frown on his face. "Who is that?"

"One of the house-elves you have in your employ," explained Merlin. "He was with me when I came down this morning."

"Ah yes," said Lord Godric. "I can never remember all their names, well over a hundred now aren't there? I suppose they're useful little things to have around, don't cause any trouble and they never seem to want paying for their work, which is good news as we seem to be on limited funds at the moment-"

"Were you pleased with him?" Helga interrupted, looking eager. "It is a great personal project of mine, bringing them here. None of the others seem to care for it much."

"He's lovely," said Merlin, "a little  _too_  dedicated to his work perhaps, but friendly. I admire what you have done for his race; they seem to have suffered just as much as many wizards do."

Helga looked pleased. "Yes, people often forget about them during war. Some are burned along with their masters, others abandoned, and some even willingly sacrificed to the Muggles to allow the family time to escape. It's cruel, and they are often treated badly. Tenga I believe came from a family of Dark wizards who massacred a Muggle village and left him behind in the rubble to take the blame. They were burned anyway, and Tenga almost along with them. A friend of mine found him and brought him to me to look after."

"You remember each of their names?" Lord Godric asked her in amazement. "They all look alike to me!"

Helga frowned. "Only because you do not take the time to know the people who wait on you all day and night."

"They're hardly people-"

"They have thoughts and feelings of their own," said Helga dismissively, in a tone that brooked no argument. "They are to be treated as equals in this castle."

Lord Godric looked as if he wanted to argue, but one look from her and he almost seem to quail. He cleared his throat, evidently embarrassed, and gestured around the room.

"Well, I suppose we'd better start on showing Master Emrys here our masterpiece. This is the Entrance Hall; it was the main hall of the original castle that stood on this spot. We renovated it, made it larger and built around it to make the castle many times larger."

"If this is only an Entrance Hall," said Merlin, "is there a Great Hall?"

Lord Godric grinned. "Yes, indeed. It is behind those doors to your left. But it is not yet finished. It doesn't even have a roof yet! We shall not show it to you just yet."

He gestured with one large arm. "Come! We shall show you the upper levels."

Merlin followed the two Founders up the marble staircase and along some further corridors. Lord Godric chattered non-stop, telling him about the subjects that would be taught, the rooms that would be used for instruction, and the systems that would operate in the school. Helga mostly remained silent, and watched him closely, evidently eager for his approval. Merlin found himself hooked on every word, and more and more amazed the more the saw of the castle. They moved up through the floors and Merlin felt his head spin.

"So large," he mused. "How many students do you intend to house?"

"As many as possible," Lord Godric answered immediately. "Hopefully every child of magical ability in Britain. We shall offer them a place here once they reach a certain age, ten or elven perhaps, and then bring them here for instruction."

"All children?" Merlin asked. "Regardless of background or means?"

"Yes," said Helga immediately, speaking for the first time in a while. "Children from the nobility, and the peasantry, Pure-Blooded families and Muggle ones, English or otherwise, we care not. If they have magic, we shall invite them."

"And what of the language barrier?" Merlin asked. "Even down in the village there is difficulty in communication among adults. Would that not affect your ability to teach?"

"Only for a while," said Helga. "As you have probably already guessed, we ourselves come from far different corners of Britain, and can speak many languages. We shall each teach in whatever language is needed, and hire teachers from all backgrounds to ensure the children are well catered for. We hope eventually however to settle upon just one language, English perhaps, so to create a sense of unity. It will also prepare them for the world outside. It changes rapidly. We hope to give them every advantage."

Merlin grinned. "It sounds perfect."

They stopped before a window and Merlin looked out over the forest once more. Lord Godric caught his glance.

"Yes, the forest. It was here before we were. It is one of the things that drew us here. Inherently magical, you must have sensed it as you passed through."

"I did indeed," said Merlin. "I also sensed a great manner of magical creatures. Some of them dangerous."

Lord Godric laughed. "Yes, that'll keep the Muggles away!"

"If it does not instead pose a danger to the children," Helga said, and it was obvious she was disapproving.

Lord Godric waved his hand at this however. "It'll keep them on their toes!" he insisted. "Test their daring!"

"And their foolhardiness?" Helga asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lord Godric shrugged. "Sometimes one must employ drastic measures in order to teach."

Helga scowled. "I will not be posing any drastic or dangerous measures in any of  _my_  classes." And she swept off down the corridor.

Lord Godric chuckled and nudged Merlin. "Helga disapproves of my methods. But if it teaches them to defend themselves, what will a few scars or broken bones matter?"

Merlin laughed, but only because Lord Godric was reminding him of someone from long ago. He had thought being reminded so forcibly of Arthur would be painful, but instead, Merlin found it endearing. He knew Arthur and Godric Gryffindor would have gotten on very well indeed.

He moved along the corridors with the two Founders once more, admiring more and more of what he saw. They were just walking along, with Lord Godric pointing out some of the features of the masonry when Merlin was suddenly hit from behind by some heavy object.

He wheeled around, whipping out his wand, ready for attack, but what he saw made him drop his wand in amazement. Floating above the floor, dressed in what could only be described as the clothes of the worst-dressed jester in the world was a small little man. His eyes were wide and mischievous.

"Ooooh! Looky here! Another one! Another one invading my castle! Standing there as bold as brass he is! Is he as fun to annoy as the others?"

And suddenly, without warning, a bucket appeared out of thin air into his hands, and before Merlin could do anything, he'd been absolutely been drenched in water. Spluttering, Merlin looked up in shock to see the little man literally rolling around in the air, clutching his sides from laughter.

"Ooh yes! He'll be a fun one! Ha ha ha!"

And with that, he swooped off down the corridor and out of sight. Merlin turned to Helga, still sopping wet. "What on earth was that?"

"The castle poltergeist," Helga said heavily, drawing her own wand and uttering a quick spell to dry him off. "I am sorry. He likes to play tricks like that. It's really quite tiresome."

"Speak for yourself, Helga," said Lord Godric, who was roaring with laughter. "I like him! Always good for a laugh!"

"You're not the one dripping wet," muttered Merlin.

Helga frowned. "What will happen when the students arrive, Godric?"

"They'll learn to always be on their guard!" said Lord Godric. "Prepare them for the outside world!"

"You're not going to get rid of him?" Merlin asked incredulously, now dry.

"No!" Lord Godric replied. "He's been here longer than any of us; he came with the building. He's no danger, just a bit of fun."

"I still say we should have him exorcised-" began Helga, but Lord Godric cut across her.

"No, I say he stays. If you can have your house-elves and Rowena her infernal moving staircases, then I want a poltergeist."

He moved off down the corridor again, and Helga turned to Merlin and sighed. "I am afraid he is quite insistent. You must be alert at all times for Peeves."

"Peeves?" Merlin asked, falling into step with her.

"That's what Salazar calls him," explained Helga, "and I must say, it rather suits him. I doubt we shall ever be rid of him."

Merlin sighed. A poltergeist? This would make his work a little more difficult. He only hoped the poltergeist would be only a nuisance instead of a danger.

They started following Lord Godric once more. "Moving staircases?" Merlin asked, intrigued.

"Yes," smiled Helga. "Rowena's idea. They constantly change around, as do several corridors and the location of doors. It's her way of testing the student's intelligence and awareness. There's a distinct pattern to the changes, and the students must figure it out if they are to find their way around."

"It seems a drastic way of teaching them intelligence," Merlin observed, a smiled tugging at his lips. "What if a student gets lost on the way to breakfast and starves to death?"

Helga laughed, and her eyes glinted in amusement. "Believe me, the thought has crossed my mind. But Rowena is stubborn. She is not very tolerant of those with lesser intelligence than she. A result of her extensive reading."

"Yes, Tenga mentioned that she was very clever."

"Clever is an understatement," said Helga. "She is a genius. I was educated by my parents, most unusually, as many noble families do not consider a daughter's education as worthy as a son's, but she far surpasses me. She taught herself everything since her family was not particularly conducive to education. She regards it as a privilege and is very proud of being self-taught, and is eager to share her knowledge with the students. She insists that intelligence is everything."

"And you think otherwise?" Merlin asked.

"Yes," said Helga. "Even if the students leave here illiterate, I will not care so long as they have learned toleration, peace and kindness. That is what I consider most important. Godric of course seems to require great daring deeds from his students, and Salazar desires ambition and cunning from the students in order to outwit Muggles, but I have found that is the simpler things in life that are more worthy. I would much rather they learn to get along with Muggles rather than try to kill or outwit them."

Merlin grinned, feeling himself grow even warmer towards her. If only all sorcerers could be like her in her kind wisdom.

"Hurry up, you two!" Lord Godric called. "This staircase will only be here for a while! Hurry up before it moves!"

Helga and Merlin increased their speed and they all descended down the staircases once more.

"The library is not yet completed," said Helga, gesturing down one floor, "but it promises to be a spectacular place. Rowena has invested a great deal of herself into it."

"As have I in my Dueling Chamber," grinned Lord Godric. "It will be a marvel once it is completed."

"You intend to teach Dueling?"

"Of course!" said Lord Godric. "In these dangerous times, it is a vital skill!"

"It will not be all we teach them however," noted Helga. "With my skills as a Healer, I shall enjoy teaching them about many magical plants and their uses in cures and other potions."

Lord Godric snorted. "Who would rather play around with plants than learn some good jinxes?"

"Not all of us are as fixated as you are on physical prowess," Helga retorted. "We shall also teach Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Arithmancy and a great deal other things, like Healing. Muggle Studies shall be compulsory, so as to teach them all about the dangers of Muggles and how best to blend in with them. We may teach Latin also; so many spells derive from that language it would be good to have them able to create their own."

"Sounds like a lot of work," Merlin observed. "Are you sure you can all manage it?"

"We shall try," smiled Helga. "We each have our specialty, and we will hire others. Of course, we have not settled on anything yet."

Merlin couldn't help but wonder to himself, was this what he'd been brought to do? Teach the Founders Old Magic so they could share it with others in their lessons?

Lord Godric brought him out of his reverie. "I also wish some form of class teaching about magical creatures," he said. "You never know when a dragon may attack."

Merlin couldn't help but smile. Kilgharrah and Aithusa were many miles away from here, and although his Dragonlord abilities were not so effective against the modern lesser form of dragon that had come from across the sea, he was certain none would pose much difficulty to him.

"For some strange reason," Lord Godric continued, "Rowena wishes to teach Astronomy. No idea why; what use can knowing the names of stars be?"

"Some spells are more potent when cast during certain stellar movements," said Helga.

"So she says ..."

Merlin was intrigued by this. Astronomy? It seemed quite strange to him. He thought longer on the mysterious Rowena Ravenclaw, who he had not seen all day. From all he heard about her from Helga and Tenga, and what he had observed the previous night, he thought he was beginning to understand her just a little. Would this be enough to earn her friendship?

"Tell me," he began. "What is Lady Rowena like?"

Lord Godric laughed. "A know-it-all most of the time. She delights in ridiculing me for my lack of intelligence."

"She  _is_  sometimes a little arrogant when it comes to showing off her intellect," Helga acceded reluctantly. "But she is as determined to make this school work as the rest of us. She is a dear friend."

"And she does not have many of those," Lord Godric observed. "She's always so … I don't know,  _quiet_. Very reserved, even with Helena. She prefers the company of books than the company of others. But that was all she did as a child: read, read, read. Lonely, I think."

"Well, soon the school shall be filled with children and she need be lonely no more," said Helga, as though wishing to put an end to the conversation quickly. Merlin however was still intrigued, and found his mind continually drifting back to her. What occasion would she have for being lonely with family and friends such as these?

They had soon arrived back in the Entrance Hall, and Lord Godric and Helga led him outside to take a tour of the grounds. Even in the bleakness of winter, Merlin was struck by their beauty. He admired the lake at length. It reminded him of another one he had visited long ago.

He frowned when he caught sight of some dark shape below the water. "What was that?"

"Oh, that was just the Giant Squid," said Lord Godric.

"Giant  _what?_ "

"Giant Squid," repeated Lord Godric. "Like a giant fish with many legs. I'm not sure yet whether it's friendly or otherwise, I've yet to catch it."

"We should get rid of it," said Helga, shivering in the cold air. "It could pose a danger to the students if proven to be hostile."

"Nonsense! It will teach them to-"

" _Always be on their guard_ ," Helga said, rolling her eyes. "You are obsessed, Godric. Constant vigilance is all you preach these days."

"It may be friendly!"

"And it may not," said Helga. "So I suggest you refrain from diving into the lake and trying to wrestle with it again until we know for certain."

Merlin laughed at the banter between them. It reminded him of a happier time when he had had friendships like this.

He turned back to the castle and smiled as he took it in, watching the many magical masons at work in some of the highest towers. "It is magnificent," he said, truthfully. "But have you done it all yourselves?"

"Entirely," said Lord Godric, pride evident in his voice. "Helga and I come from wealthy families, and we both invested a great deal of money into the place, and Salazar contributed a fair amount to it when he arrived also."

"Have you had no help from the Wizards' Council?" Merlin asked, remembering the gossip he had heard in the village inn. "They are supposed to safeguard the interests of magical people in Britain, have they not expressed interest?"

Lord Godric's face immediately darkened. "Oh yes, they expressed an interest. But not the sort we wished."

"Why?" Merlin asked, intrigued. He had little to do with the Wizards' Council himself. It seemed to be made up of aristocratic and corrupt snobs.

"They wished to be involved with the school," explained Helga, "but only under certain conditions."

"Such as?"

"They did not wish Muggle-Borns to attend," said Lord Godric, looking newly outraged. "They deemed them unworthy of studying magic, and would not invest in a school where they would be treated equally with students of 'purer' blood."

"Ridiculous," spat Helga, looking suddenly vehement. "Those children are the ones in most need of education. Pure-blooded children can learn magic from their parents, but Muggle-Borns have no one to turn to, no one to help when they are abandoned and afraid."

"We refused to ban Muggle-Borns from the school," said Lord Godric, "and so they refused their assistance. And we do not need it. The school shall remain separate from government so long as I have anything to say about it; governments can be corrupted, and they change rapidly. The school shall have nothing to do with politics."

"That's one of the reasons we decided to build the school here, in the Kingdom of Alba," said Helga. "Their jurisdiction is much weaker up here."

"And most of them wouldn't dare cross the border," snorted Lord Godric, looking quite pleased. "Scared of the natives. It is not only Muggle-Borns they hate. Anyone who is not from an Anglo-Saxon noble family is unworthy in their eyes to study here with their own children."

"And since not all of the Founders are Anglo-Saxon, they refuse to be associated with us," said Helga. "Salazar and Godric are both from noble English families, but Rowena and I are not native English speakers."

"They don't wish their noble children mixing with commoners," said Merlin, nodding his head. "I understand."

"If you don't mind me asking," said Lord Godric, "which do you fall under: nobility, or otherwise? Where do you belong, so to speak? Your appearance last night, and your profession indicates limited means, but your bearing and manner of speaking suggest otherwise."

Merlin paused for a moment, considering his answer. "My father was a lord," he answered, somewhat truthfully, "but my mother was a peasant, and she was the one who raised me. I spent many years in service, and then eventually became a member of a royal court. But that was many years ago, and now I don't really have anywhere to belong."

"Which royal court?" Lord Godric asked in curiosity.

Merlin shook his head. "A kingdom many miles from here. It is gone now."

"You can belong here, Emrys," said Helga kindly, before Lord Godric questioned him further. "This school will be open to all. You can find meaning here."

He smiled, looking around and feel the power of the Old Religion sweep over him. "Yes, perhaps I can."

They all turned by silent agreement and headed back into the relative warmth of the castle. As they entered, Merlin caught a glimpse of the phoenix from the night before. He swept around the room once or twice and then out of sight.

"Moltres seems to like you," said Lord Godric. "That is most unusual for him. You must be special indeed."

Merlin ignored his last comment. "He is a most unusual bird. However did you acquire him?"

Lord Godric laughed. "More like, 'how did he acquire me?' He just showed up one day and refused to leave. I don't mind; he's a wonderful companion."

The bird had chosen him independently, Merlin thought. That must indeed be proof of Lord Godric's importance to the Old Religion.

"Just one last place to show you now!" Lord Godric announced, leading him to a passageway. "The dungeons!"

"Dungeons?" Merlin asked, remembering with distaste the amount of times he'd found himself in the dungeons of Camelot. "What use could they be in a school?"

"A scare tactic?" Lord Godric winked mischievously. "They are but a remnant of the old castle; we have no real use for them. Salazar spends a great deal of time down here, concocting potions. He lives down here now, created some elaborate chambers for himself. Never understood it myself, who'd want to live down here in the cold and slime? I speak to you also, Helga. Why build your own personal chambers down here in the depths of the castle, and so close to the kitchens?"

Helga just smiled. "I like waking up to the smell of baking bread."

Lord Godric shook his head in exasperation. "I do not understand it," he said. "Rowena and I have each appropriated a tower to ourselves. It is a great deal more pleasant."

"If you are unafraid of heights …" Helga muttered.

Lord Godric ignored her. "It is our intention that after we retire or leave the school that our personal chambers should be expanded and house certain students. Create a sort of identity for them. Generations of students shall curse Salazar, and you Helga for choosing their quarters in such a dingy place."

"Not if they're made comfortable."

"Where will they stay in the meantime?" Merlin asked. "And how shall you determine which students goes where?"

"In our lifetime, the students shall sleep in different dormitories according to age and gender throughout different parts of the castle," Helga explained. "About half a dozen to each room perhaps."

"The Wizards' Council hate that idea of course," said Lord Godric, sniffing. "They don't want the children of Barons and noble Lords sleeping in the same room as the children of butchers and farmers."

"But we have a system planned that we feel will be beneficial" said Helga. "A sort of … House system. In much the same way as the noble and royal families belong to a House, we plan to implement the same thing here, one named after each of the Founders. Then, when the students arrive at the school, after a little while of teaching them, we shall decide which students to take into each of our own Houses based on the qualities they show. You remember from earlier that we each value different qualities in a student. After we leave the school, our personal quarters shall be expanded and converted into a home for them, a centre for their lives at the school. We wish to create an entire community of students who will have loyalty and love for each other, and of course, some healthy competition between Houses."

"All united under one banner of course," said Lord Godric. "We wish to show them, that although they all may be different and have different qualities, they can all work together."

Merlin smiled. "It sounds perfect," he admitted. "But after you leave the school, who then shall decide where the students should go?"

At this, Lord Godric finally faltered. "Ah," he said. "That we haven't quite figured out yet."

Merlin laughed. "It seems an ingenious plan in the meantime however."

Lord Godric and Helga both looked pleased at his praise, and Merlin felt a thrill inside. This school seemed like perfection, somewhere he would have killed to attend in his own youth. Could it all be too good to be true?

Eventually, Lord Godric knocked on the door of what had evidently once been a guardroom. They entered to find Slytherin sitting at a great table covered in many potions and vials. He looked annoyed at being disturbed, and even more so when he saw who was accompanying them.

"Can I have no peace, Godric?"

"Come now, Salazar!" Lord Godric boomed. "You've been locked up in here all day! Come and be sociable!"

"I'd rather not," said Slytherin. "I have much work to do."

"Don't be such a bore, Sal!" Lord Godric laughed. "Your potions can bear a few moments without your company."

"Perhaps, but I cannot bear a few minutes without theirs," answered Slytherin swiftly. "Particularly when faced with the alternative."

He glared at Merlin here, and Merlin stared calmly back at him.

Lord Godric's jubilant manner seemed to dampen slightly. He looked away awkwardly, and Helga instead stepped forward.

"He saved the life of Rowena's daughter, Salazar," she said gently. "Does that mean nothing to you?"

He looked at her evenly. "I need more proof," he said. "I have not your trusting nature. Helena was dying of the same disease that decimated my village, and this man was there also. I cannot fail to see the coincidence."

"And what of my magic?" Merlin asked. "Do not tell me that you don't recognise it as kin."

Slytherin looked away. "I need more proof. And I would appreciate privacy."

Merlin nodded, and turned to leave. "I only hope to convince you one day, my Lord."

He left, and neither he, Lord Godric or Helga said a word until they were back in the Entrance Hall.

Helga looked to him, and gently placed her arm on his.

"Do not vex yourself," she said, "he will come around."

"I only hope so." Merlin answered, a heaviness growing in his heart.

She tilted her head to one side. "You will note that we have not mentioned anything of your abilities and what you claim to practice. I wanted to get to know you first, and ensure you truly had the greatest of intentions. And you have proven that, tolerating Godric in itself is an accomplishment. I hope soon that we can finally embark on learning this strange new art."

Merlin nodded. "I can begin instructing you immediately, if you wish. But I would prefer to wait until all of you desire to learn. This is difficult magic, and I feel that you must draw your strength from each other."

Lord Godric slumped slightly. "And there was me hoping to master it before Salazar."

Merlin laughed. "Believe me, Lord Godric, it will take many years, for all of you."

Lord Godric smiled. "Then I hope we may begin as quickly as possible."

"But for now, we have reached the end of a long day," said Helga. "We would invite you for a meal, but we usually all eat separately, and will continue to do so until the Great Hall is finally completed. But Tenga shall attend to you in your chambers if you should wish."

"Thank you, I think I shall go there now," Merlin said, bowing slightly. "I have a lot to consider. Teaching this magic, it shall require a great deal of thought on my part. Good evening Helga, Lord Godric."

He completed his bow and turned to head up the marble staircase, hoping he could find his way once more when Lord Godric called him back.

"I like you, boy!" he called, a grin behind his beard. "And I hope we can be friends; if Moltres likes you, then I must too. And another thing," he said, chuckling, "if you are to be both my teacher and my friend, we can dispense with all that 'Lord Godric' stuff. Call me Godric; we are all equals here."

Merlin grinned. "Very well. Good evening, Godric."

Two Founders down, just two to win over left.

* * *

 

Merlin left his quarters a few hours later after having eaten a lavish meal that Tenga had brought to his quarters, once again balancing a dangerous amount of crockery between his large bat-like ears. He had a purpose to this evening's walk, and he was only worried about finding his way in the changing corridors.

But luck it seemed was on his side. He soon approached the staircase he had been searching for. He climbed it and knocked firmly on the door he found at the top and waited patiently.

A few moments passed, and then the door was opened by the one remaining Founder he had not encountered that day. Lady Rowena's eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on the child," Merlin explained, once again struck by the sadness that seemed to permeate her entire being. "It will only take a few moments. I need to be sure she is recovering."

"She is well enough," said Lady Rowena dismissively, but she stood back nonetheless to let him in. Merlin almost smiled. She was proud, but beneath that, she was still worried about her daughter and not willing to risk anything.

He crossed into the child's chambers and saw the same servant woman from the day before sitting by the child's side. The girl was awake now, and sitting up against some pillows, her sparkling eyes alert and inquisitive.

The servant looked questioningly at Merlin, and spoke to her mistress in what sounded like Gaelic. Lady Rowena responded in kind and the servant left the room somewhat reluctantly. Merlin looked to Lady Rowena, his eyebrows raised.

"Scáthach was my own nursemaid as an infant," Lady Rowena explained. "She is protective of both me and my daughter. She will not speak to you. She knows no English and makes no effort to learn it."

"Then I must learn her tongue instead," Merlin said and noted how Lady Rowena frowned when he spoke, but not in annoyance, more like a subtle appreciation.

He crossed over to the child and sat in the chair vacated by Scáthach. The girl watched him curiously. He smiled at her.

"Hello," he said to her. "My name is Emrys. What is yours?"

"Helena," she responded quite shyly.

"What a pretty name," Merlin smiled, and laughed when he saw her blush. "Now, Helena, you were very sick, and I need to make sure that you are well again. Can I look you over? I promise it won't hurt."

Helena seemed to consider for a moment, before nodding. Merlin smiled and gently leaned forward and examined her, checking her fever was gone and there was no trace of the pox that had ravaged her body only the day before. Helena watched him the entire time, as did her mother.

"All better," Merlin announced finally. "How do you feel?"

"Good," she said quietly. "But I had nightmares."

"We can't have that," said Merlin, shaking his head. "Shall I give you a potion that will stop the nightmares coming back?"

Helena nodded again, and Merlin stood up from the bed and crossed over to the table where his equipment still lay from the previous day. He began mixing together a simple potion for her to help her sleep. Helena didn't take her eyes off him.

Lady Rowena stepped a little closer. "Do you speak Latin?" she asked him in said language.

"I do," Merlin answered, and noticed her nod of approval at the display of his apparent intellect. "What is it that you would say to me out of the hearing of your daughter?"

"I want to know the truth," Lady Rowena responded. "Is she truly well?"

"Yes," said Merlin. "Not a trace of the ailment is left."

"But how is it possible?" Lady Rowena asked, looking frustrated. "The disease-"

"Old Magic is more powerful than you realise," he said to her. "I hope to show you that soon."

He finished the potion and crossed over to the bed once more, carrying the liquid in a small beaker.

"Here," he said to the girl, back in English. "Drink this and all the nightmares will go away."

Helena sniffed the potion and wrinkled her nose. Merlin laughed. "Yes, I know. But it will help, I promise."

He lifted a withered flower from the vase beside her bed. He closed both his hands over it, and whispered: " _Blostma._ "

Helena gasped when she saw his eyes burn golden, and then squeaked with joy when he opened his hands to reveal a perfect rose, its fragrance already filling the room. He passed it to her with a small smile.

"If I give you this, will you drink the potion?"

Helena nodded eagerly, and gulped the potion down in one go. She fell back on her pillows almost immediately and fell into a deep sleep, clutching the rose in her tiny hand.

Merlin looked back to Lady Rowena and saw the look of adoration and love on her face for a brief moment before she concealed it behind a mask once more. He considered her carefully. She was so unlike Helga. Helga was open and friendly, and prone to much laughter, but Lady Rowena … she was reserved, cold, keeping her feelings firmly buried away as though showing them was a sign of weakness. She had been the same yesterday, cold with Merlin, but loving and emotional when in those tender moments with her daughter. She noticed him looking.

"You are good with children," she said, back in Latin once more. "Have you any of your own?"

Merlin laughed. "No, I never got around to it."

Lady Rowena swept past him and looked out of the window and up at the stars above. She was silent for a moment.

"I was married at sixteen," she said softly, "and against my wishes. Helena was the only good thing that came from that union."

"You love her very much," Merlin observed.

"Do not all mothers love their daughters?"

"Of course," he said, standing up to join her at the window. "But other mothers show it more openly than you do, my Lady."

"My love is not less because it is concealed," she said quickly. "I do not display my feelings on my sleeve like Helga does."

"Because you are afraid," said Merlin.

She turned to him fiercely. "I fear nothing!"

He laughed softly. "Everyone fears something. For you, it is weakness. That is why you bury yourself in books and regard intellect so highly; you want to become stronger. This is why you are lonely, you fear becoming weak by loving others. But you cannot help but love our daughter, as all mothers do, so you hide it as best you can."

Lady Rowena turned away from him quickly and looked up at the sky once more. "You don't even know me. You cannot presume to know my heart."

"I know you are lonely, and sad, my Lady," he said. "It is plain to see. You have suffered in your life."

"We all suffer, in our own ways," Lady Rowena said softly.

"You read and learned as much as you could to fill up the lonely hours you spent in your youth," Merlin said, joining the information he had learned in the village with what Helga had told him and he had discerned himself. "You were married off to make peace with Muggles when all you wanted was a chance to prove your worth with your intelligence rather than through marriage. Even then, your sacrifice was for nothing, and war came anyway. You had to flee when the Muggles turned against you for your husband's death. You were once again alone in the world, alone but for Helena. Then you met with others who had a purpose, a way to stop the loneliness in others, and you poured your heart and soul into it. Am I correct, my Lady?"

He wasn't entirely sure where all this information was coming from, but he knew it to be true somehow. Lady Rowena did not take her eyes off the stars, and seemed to be trying to retain her composure.

He looked out the window once more, more words spilling from him before he could stop himself, feeling like he was once again rambling like some silly youth. "That is why you want Astronomy taught here isn't it? The stars are endless and eternal. You felt trapped in your life, and so looked to the stars that guard the paths to the heavens themselves. I am no fool; the alignment of stars does not have that much of an effect on the potency of spells or potions. You want to study them because they taught you that one day, you could be as free as they are."

Lady Rowena was silent for the longest time. Finally, she turned to him, her face composed, not betraying even the slightest hint that what he said had affected her. "Your Latin is flawless," she said, "I only wish the same could be said about Godric's."

She crossed the room. "You are an educated man, evidently," she said, in a stiff formal voice. "I shall enjoy learning from you, I think. The magic you displayed," she gestured to the rose in her daughter's hand, "is special indeed. I want to learn more about it."

"You shall," he said. "I would not deny one so eager for knowledge. So long as she acknowledges that knowledge is not the only thing of value in this world."

She smiled, and her face seemed more child-like. "I will, if you cease your determination to say you know my innermost feelings."

"I cannot do that," said Merlin, noting the playful look in her eye. "I am here to help you all. In every way possible."

"Then I must too declare I cannot abide by your terms," she said. "We must agree to disagree."

Merlin nodded, bowed and crossed the room, ready to leave.

"Emrys."

He turned when she called his name, once again he was struck by her sadness that marred her beautiful face. She smiled again, letting down her guard for the briefest of moments. "There are not many who can impress me with their intelligence. And although you have other irritating qualities, I shall not object to consider you as a friend in the days to come."

Merlin grinned, and bowed once more, his heart racing for some reason. "Nor I, my Lady."

He left the room and made off for his own quarters. He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes, grinning. Three of the Founders now trusted him, everything was falling into place.

He thought of Lady Rowena once more and found himself smiling. She was a troubled woman, and Merlin wanted to help her desperately. She was strong and intelligent, she should be content with that instead of hiding behind an ice-cold mask to everyone she met. Merlin was determined to help her.

With Lady Rowena's sadness and Slytherin's stubbornness still resting heavily on his mind, Merlin soon fell into an uneasy sleep.


	8. Understanding and Questioning

Merlin walked through the gates to the village early the following morning, determined to clear his head before he sought the Founders again. The village was up and alert even at this early hour as the residents hurried here and there getting their daily tasks done. But still, the atmosphere was gloomy.

Merlin stopped and leaned up against the wall of the inn next to a window, looking up and down the main street with interest, feeling a slight surge of pity. These people were refugees, and the suffering they had endured was apparent in every line of their faces. They had been forced here by drastic measures.

It pained his heart to see them so miserable. He only hoped that one day this village could become a place of happiness and safety. At the moment, the only ones who weren't wearing grim expressions were the children. A group of them were laughing and playing in the street, chasing some cat like creature that Merlin vaguely recognised as a Kneazle. Their laughter was the only happy sound in the village, and Merlin marveled that these children were still capable of it. They were stronger than they looked.

He was startled by the sudden clattering to his left as the window to the inn was opened, and the young barmaid stuck her head out, the smells of mead and fresh food drifting out around her. She smiled at him and said something that Merlin couldn't quite follow. He got the gist however that she was asking him whether he would like anything.

He smiled and nodded, and spoke slowly in her own language. "You have bread?"

She giggled slightly, probably at his awful pronunciation, but nodded and retreated inside, and he heard her rummaging around the kitchen. Merlin sighed. There were many forms of Gaelic around here, and he knew he would never master all of them. He'd picked up a few words here and there in the month he had spent in the village before going to the castle, but because there were so many different dialects he wasn't sure which words belonged with which dialect. It was posing a few problems. He knew Helga and Lady Rowena both spoke different languages, and he hoped he'd be able to learn them. He'd learned many languages over the centuries, often out of boredom more than any great need, and he'd developed quite a knack for it.

With another clattering sound, the girl popped her head back out the window and offered him a small hunk of warm bread and a friendly smile.

"Thank you," Merlin said as best he could in the strange tongue and offered her a couple of coins, but the girl shook her head.

"No," she said, slowly for his benefit. "You helped the child. Thank  _you_."

Merlin grinned, and put the coins back in his pocket; he didn't know enough Gaelic to argue with her anyway. He thanked her again and she retreated back inside. He had underestimated just how highly the people in this village thought of the Founders.

He tore into the bread, relishing the freshness and warmth on the cold day. He was starving; he'd left before Tenga had arrived with his breakfast, desiring some time to think. He mulled over what to do next as he chewed his meagre meal. How best to win over Salazar Slytherin? And Lady Rowena for that matter; although she trusted him to a degree, he wanted  _all_ the Founders to be as trusting and open with him as Helga and Godric. It was the only way to ensure that he taught them all properly. When Merlin took on apprentices in Camelot he did not begin to teach them until they all had absolute faith in him.

It was a puzzle, and he wasn't yet quite sure how he would figure it out.

"Emrys!"

Merlin looked up at the sound of his name and smiled when he saw Hilda rushing towards him. "Good morning, Hilda!"

"And to you!" she cried and hugged him quickly. "How I've missed you!"

Merlin laughed. "I've only been away for two nights!"

She smiled. "It's remarkable how accustomed one becomes to someone's company. There aren't that many English speakers in the village, and now I only have my husband to talk to."

He winked. "You prefer my company over your husband's? How flattering."

She laughed. "Have you had any breakfast?"

He held up his bread. "I'm in the middle of it."

She tutted as she saw it. "That won't do at all. Come, I'll take you back to the house and feed you up properly. You're far too skinny!"

He didn't bother to argue, and let himself be led to her house right on the edge of the village. They entered to find Elred seated at the scrubbed wooden table.

"Emrys!" he smiled as he stood up to greet him. "Thank heavens you're back! I'd quite despaired of having any sensible conversation anymore!"

Merlin laughed while Hilda scowled at him. "The way the two of you talk you'd think I'd been away for weeks instead of only one full day!"

He sat at the table and Hilda soon brought him some food which he ate gratefully. "Tell us then," said Elred, watching him over the table. "We heard you'd saved the girl, but what kept you there? Why did you send for your things?"

Merlin swallowed his food. "I've decided to stay at the school."

"Whatever for?" Hilda asked him in amazement.

"Lady Helga wishes to learn some healing techniques from me," said Merlin, regretting telling even this tiniest of lies; as much as he liked these people, he didn't want them to know of his power. "They've asked me to stay there in the meantime."

"Well, we'll miss you," said Elred, nodding his head severely. "You'll come and see us often?"

"Of course," said Merlin, smiling broadly. "But the castle is so grand I fear I may wish to stay there always!"

"What is it like?" Hilda asked breathlessly. "The workmen in the inn don't say much, and we can't understand them anyway. And the Founders themselves, what are they like?"

Merlin launched into a description of everything and everyone he'd met at the castle (with the exception of his promise to teach the Founders Old Magic) and Hilda and Elred hung on his every word, looking fascinated as he described the luxury and grandeur of the castle and the plans the Founders had.

"It sounds incredible," said Elred, "To think, common children will be able to live in a castle like that as well as the rich! I almost wish I was young enough to be able to go."

"I'd give anything for one of those house-elves," sighed Hilda. "It'd certainly be useful around here. Lady Helga sent us food and supplies to last us a month in gratitude for letting you stay with us. Why did she do that, I wonder?"

"That's probably my doing," said Merlin, smiling. "I mentioned to her that you'd been kind to me and she promised to reward your kindness. I had no idea she'd done this much however."

Hilda looked proudly around the house, which Merlin noticed now had a few boxes lying around filled with supplies. "She's a good woman," she said, nodding. "We would never have asked payment for letting you lodge here."

"She has a knack of giving help to those who need it but do not ask for it," said Merlin, thinking of the rescued house-elves. "I have no doubt the school will be a success with her in charge."

"I hope so," said Elred.

Before long, Merlin decided it was probably best he headed back to the castle and bid farewell to Elred and Hilda, with many promises of visiting often. He took his time on the way back to the castle, appreciating the sight of the wondrous building growing closer and closer on the road ahead of him. He felt a curious feeling in his heart, like this was his home now; he felt as though he belonged here. He hadn't had an instinct this strong since he had first arrived in Camelot.

He arrived back, and instead of immediately heading indoors, he decided to take a stroll around the grounds, admiring the near-completed castle from every angle. He wandered down to the lake and walked along the shore, looking across the flat surface that rippled only slightly in the early morning breeze. It was chilly, but not unpleasantly so. He rounded a bend and stopped when he realised he was not alone.

Ahead of him, standing on the sloping grass that led down to the lake was Lady Rowena Ravenclaw. He watched her for a moment, struck by her lone figure that stood looking silently out over the lake. Her dark hair was loose and flew behind her in the wind. She had a tiny smile on her face, and her clear eyes were fixed on one point by the lake. He followed her glance and saw a smaller figure down by the lake's edge. Helena Ravenclaw was there, wrapped up in about three thick cloaks, her small face, pink with the wind and her laughter just peeking above a warm scarf. She was playing on a small stony beach next to the lake, chasing some birds which always flew off just before she reached them.

Merlin smiled as he took in the scene; the child looked the picture of health. He turned his gaze back to her mother, who was still smiling as she watched, for once not concealing her emotions.

He approached slowly, giving her plenty of time to notice him, which she did. The mask of indifference was soon back in place. She tried to look perfectly composed and serene as he approached her, but he could see the shrewd look in her eyes, betraying her fierce intelligence. She was examining him.

He tried to look as though he did not notice however. He gestured to Helena. "You should be careful. I've heard a Giant Squid lives in that lake."

Her eyes narrowed. "I know how to look after my own daughter, Master Emrys," she said haughtily. "In any case, I doubt such a creature exists."

"Why?" Merlin asked.

"There is no evidence," she said, turning away. "I have found no account of such a creature living in fresh-water lakes in any of my books."

"Ah," said Merlin, "so because it is not in a book, it cannot be real."

She seemed to glare at him. "Of course."

Merlin laughed softly. "Don't you wonder how such things get into books in the first place? Someone has to be the first to write it down."

"I am perfectly well aware of that," she said. "And if I ever see the creature, I shall do so immediately."

"It has already been seen."

"Not by me," said Lady Rowena.

"But Godric has seen it, and so has Helga," said Merlin, watching her in amusement. "Does that not count?"

"They would believe anything," said Lady Rowena. "I must see it with my own eyes to believe it."

"You don't believe in blind faith then?"

"No," she said. "I believe in solid facts."

"I saw it also," said Merlin, smiling.

She turned to him and arched one eyebrow, a challenging look in her eye. "Did you actually see the creature itself? Or did you just think you saw an indistinct shape in the water and Godric filled in the rest?"

Merlin did not answer, and Lady Rowena looked triumphant. "You see, tricks are easily played on the human mind. We must be certain in our convictions rather than just wishing to believe in something. The word of a man who likes to fight everything he meets and an impressionable young woman is not enough."

"You don't think their accounts are truthful?" Merlin asked her. "Do you think so little of them?"

An angry look overcame her. "Helga Hufflepuff is the dearest friend I have ever had," she burst out passionately. "I trust her more than any other."

"But you are so different," Merlin said, intrigued by her reaction. "She is so open and friendly, and you are …"

"Closed and hostile?" Lady Rowena asked sardonically. "Yes, many people say that about me."

"They have good reason, my Lady," said Merlin. "You must admit."

She turned away from him and headed down the slope towards Helena who was now splashing around in the shallows, not heeding the cold water, shrieking with delight. Lady Rowena seated herself on the ground and hugged her knees close to her chest as she watched, looking younger than Merlin had yet seen her. She almost looked child-like, as the noble bearing she always carried seemed to vanish.

Without invitation, Merlin came also, and sat beside her. She looked annoyed at his continued presence, but Merlin did not heed her.

He let his eyes drift over to Helena. "How old is she?"

"She is not yet reached her fourth year," Lady Rowena answered, fixing her eyes on her daughter. "Her birthday is next month."

"You must have been very young when she was born," Merlin observed.

She stiffened. "I fell pregnant at seventeen, and gave birth not long after my eighteenth birthday."

"And your husband?"

Her eyes deadened. "I learned of his death the very afternoon I discovered I was with child."

Merlin nodded, a feeling of sympathy growing unbidden inside of him. "My own father never knew he had a child," Merlin said, more or less truthfully. "My mother never had the chance to tell him."

She blinked. "Is this how you seek to try and understand me, Emrys? Tell me your own sad past to learn more of mine?"

"No," said Merlin. "It's called sharing conversation. I want to learn more about you. If I am to teach you, I should know as much as possible. And you're a riddle to try and solve."

"I could say as much about you," she said, turning to him, her eyes narrowed in curiosity. "You are a mystery in your own right."

"Ah," smiled Merlin. "But I don't try and conceal that fact. I hide some secrets, but I never lie about my character. You seem determined to hide your very being from everyone."

She had no answer to this. "You have no right to know everything about me," she said quietly, not looking at him.

"No," he said gently. "But I would _like_  to know at least some of it."

"What is there to know?" Lady Rowena asked quickly, looking uncomfortable. "Anyone could tell you of my past. I was born here in Alba. My father was a clan chief and I spent my younger years studying and learning as much as I could. When I was sixteen, my father married me off to the leader of the rival Muggle clan to try and broker peace. My husband died the following year in a Viking attack. The Muggles rose up against me, so myself and Scáthach ran away to the coast. We boarded a ship that bore us down south where I sought refuge with my friend Helga Hufflepuff. She then introduced me to Godric Gryffindor and the idea for the school was born."

He nodded, turning away from her. "I knew that," he admitted, "some from the tavern gossip in the village, and some from what I have deduced from observing you. What I want to know is how those events affected your innermost feelings and desires."

"Why is that important?" Lady Rowena asked stiffly. "It happened years ago. It has no bearing on the present."

"You don't believe that," said Merlin. "One as intelligent as you should know that the past has a huge influence on the present. What affected you so much as to make you so desperate for this school to be built? I need to know your motivations if I am to help you. Godric and Helga I can tell wish to do this to help others, to end persecution; I can read that in every inch of their faces. But you … you have different motivations. It is not merely to end persecution of Muggles and wizards. Is it because you want to stop everyone from being as lonely as you were?"

She frowned. "Do not presume that you know my heart, Emrys," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You tried this tactic last night, and I will not yield to it. I told you that we may grow to be friends, but not if you refuse to respect my privacy."

"Too much privacy can mean isolation, my Lady," said Merlin. "Believe me, I know."

"And how do you know?" she asked, turning to him. "Why don't you tell me some of  _your_ past?"

"Gladly," he smiled. "I was born in the small village of Ealdor, and grew up afraid of my magic and all that it entailed. I lived in a world where magic was immediately punishable by death. I was lonely, at times so lonely I thought I would die from it. I was living like a shadow, lying and pretending that I was alright, when really I was not. But I did not let my loneliness consume me. I took pleasure in the company of friends and enjoyed my life and the love of the people close to me. And in the end, everything worked out for the better."

 _At least until Morgana and Mordred interfered_ , Merlin added silently.  _And even now I still live like a shadow. What did I really accomplish in the end?_

Lady Rowena looked down and avoided his eyes. "I have friends," she said, and Merlin detected the slightest trace of weakness there. "I have love in my life."

"But you hide from it," Merlin said. "I may have only been here a short while, but already I can sense it. Even with Helena your love is restrained."

"Do not say that about my daughter," she said fiercely. "After Ruairidh's death she was the only thing that kept me sane!"

"So you grieved for him?" Merlin asked.

"Of course I grieved!" Lady Rowena said loudly. "He was my husband! We had sworn to spend forever with each other. We were to promote peace among our people. With his death, all of that ended."

"You grieved for him because all hope you had had in saving others died with him, all hope of your chance at being celebrated and praised for your wisdom, the thing you prided yourself most on. Is that it? You have missed one very important thing," said Merlin.

"And what, pray tell, is that?" she asked him, sounding thoroughly displeased.

Merlin was silent for a moment. "Love."

She faltered. "What do you mean?"

"Did you love him?" Merlin asked her bluntly.

"How dare you ask such a personal question!" she said indignantly, her cheeks flushed. "He was my husband!"

"That doesn't answer my question," Merlin persisted. "Did you love him?"

She paused for a moment, and for the briefest moment she looked uncertain.

"What has love got to do with marriage?" she finally said. "The marriage was logical and practical. It had a defined purpose. There was no need for love."

"So that is a no then?" Merlin said. "Interesting."

"You paint me as heartless, Master Emrys," she said. "It is not so. I love my daughter and my friends, is that not enough?"

"Life is not about logic," Merlin said. "There are more important things."

"No,' said Lady Rowena, her voice cold. "There are more important things than falling prey to human emotion when there are greater needs in the world."

"Everyone needs to fall prey to emotion once in a while," said Merlin. "It doesn't mean that we are weak."

Lady Rowena ignored this, and for a moment, the two of them watched Helena playing on the beach. For some reason, he felt almost as uncomfortable as she did. Was he being a hypocrite? He hid away from all the painful things in his own past and put up emotional barriers to protect himself, so did he have the right to criticise her for doing the same?

No, his situation was different. His guilt would last an eternity; he could do nothing about it. Lady Rowena did not have that long. Still uncomfortable, Merlin decided to change the subject.

"Does the school have a name yet?" he asked casually. "It must have one."

"Not yet," said Lady Rowena, apparently relieved he had ceased examining her. "It may be some time before we settle on one."

Merlin nodded. "What sort of a name would suit this place, I wonder?" he mused out loud.

Lady Rowena turned and looked up at the castle. "It must be one that is impressive, and will show all others how it is a place of learning and wonder," she said. "Helga has one suggestion; that we name it after a long-lost city, one in which there was toleration and friendship between magical and non-magical peoples alike, something that we ourselves are trying to achieve."

Merlin went cold all over. "Camelot?" he asked, almost whispering in his shock. "You want to call it Camelot?"

Lady Rowena looked intrigued at his reaction. "You know of the legends, then?" she asked, and then her eyes narrowed. "But of course you do, why, you bear the name of one of the most famous inhabitants of that city."

Merlin nodded, still frozen. "I do."

Her intrigue deepened. "Why do you bear such a name? Do you aspire to his greatness, or do you think you have already achieved it?"

"Neither," said Merlin, his voice sadder than he had expected. "That man is long gone. I am only a hollow imitation."

 _And it is true_ , said Merlin into himself. Sometimes he could not believe that he had once done all those deeds. It seemed so long ago. He did not feel like the same man, and perhaps he wasn't.

"Perhaps now I see why you are so insistent on analysing me," Lady Rowena said, watching him with those discerning eyes of hers. "You are desperate for something to distract you."

"Distract me?"

"Yes," she said. "You are running from something, some great deed in your past. You are consumed with guilt for something, and you seek a new purpose to your life which you now deem to be meaningless. That is why you are so eager to teach us. You wish to devote your everything to this task so that you can forget all your own past failures. Is this not so?"

Merlin froze as she spoke, feeling the truth of her words pierce his heart. She met his eyes evenly and for a moment he was speechless. They stared at each other for the longest of moments. He felt his heart flutter a little as she continued looking at him with the eyes that seemed to be boring straight into him. He was a fool; the entire time he had been appraising her, she had been doing the same to him. Perhaps she was just a little  _too_  intelligent.

He tore his eyes away from hers and looked at his feet.

"You shouldn't call the school Camelot," he said, painfully aware of the painful scrutiny Lady Rowena had him under. "It wouldn't be right."

"And why not?" she asked. "Doesn't the name sum up everything we hope to accomplish? It was a Golden Age. Shouldn't we aspire to that?"

"Camelot fell," said Merlin, feeling the pain anew, the pain he had fought to conceal for so many years. "It wasn't infallible."

"Nothing is," she replied. "And this school, one day, shall fall also. It will not last forever. But we can ensure the limited time it has is as good and wonderful as that city was."

 _Wonderful_ , Merlin thought,  _yes it had been that. The happiest I have ever been. At least while it lasted._

"Camelot is gone," he said bluntly. "The world will never again be the way it was back then. We shouldn't try to emulate it. You should focus on making the school a symbol of power in its own right rather than relying on a famous name alone. You shouldn't live in the past."

"Just now you were accusing me of ignoring the past," Lady Rowena countered, watching him closely. "Why do you insist that I embrace my own past, but ignore that of Camelot?"

"Because Camelot is no longer relevant," Merlin said, looking across the lake. "It will never rise again, it cannot. Embrace that which will make you stronger. Don't fall back on ancient relics. Camelot was flawed. Make your school something brand new. Something that is unique to the four of you."

She considered him for a moment. "Camelot was flawed?" she repeated. "And how do you know?"

"I have studied the legends," he answered swiftly. "Many mistakes were made."

"Do you think the great Merlin himself was flawed?"

"Yes," Merlin answered, feeling a strange twinge in his heart as she said his name so unknowingly, so casually. "He failed in many ways. He could not prevent the fall of everything he built. He could not sustain it. What then was the point in it?"

"The point," said Lady Rowena, "is that he inspired many, and ignited notions of tolerance and peace."

"Notions that have been forgotten."

"Not entirely," said Lady Rowena. "Some still remember. And whilst those ideas still remain, they are not forgotten."

Merlin smiled wryly. "You seem to admire him."

"I do," she answered. "It was reading of him and the world that he built that inspired me to acquire as much knowledge as I could, and what prompted our idea for a school. We owe him much."

"But he allowed that world to fall," Merlin said, feeling his heart clench. "He let it fade away."

"Through no fault of his own," Lady Rowena said. "It was the treachery of Morgan le Fey and Mordred that destroyed that world and eventually killed him. He could not have prevented that. None of us know for sure what happened, granted, but if not for him, the world would be in a much worse position."

"Would it?"

"Yes," she answered, still watching him closely. "Surely you've heard of the Order of Merlin? The award he instituted to reward those who promoted peace between Muggles and wizards?"

He almost laughed. "Yes, I've heard of it. And it fell into myth the same time he did when war once again broke out."

"We hope to one day have the Wizards' Council reinstate it," said Lady Rowena. "We want to bring back everything he believed in. We believe it would be what he would want, that the world in its current state would pain him."

 _How true her words are_ , Merlin thought to himself,  _it does pain me. I wish more than anything that those old beliefs could be brought back, but the world is different now._

Could returning the Old Religion to the world really change that? He always had faith in it; it was the only thing that kept him sane. But now, more than ever, he doubted it. Camelot had not been perfect. He shouldn't try to relive the past. It could never be that way again. Was he just fooling himself by pursuing this path?

The Founders seemed to worship him in the same way all the rest of the wizarding world did. He didn't deserve that. He wasn't as great as they all thought. He was a fool if he thought everything could be as wondrous as it had once been.

Lady Rowena did not take her eyes off him.

"You do not seem to like him much," she observed.

Merlin laughed. "Let's just say, I don't think he was as amazing as we all claim. He was only human. Perhaps we just like the idea of him better than the reality. But we shouldn't follow ghosts."

"Why then do you bear his name?" she asked shrewdly.

Merlin was silent for a moment. "Because … " he began, "because I hope desperately that I may just live up to the legends. Regardless of whether they are true or not. I bear it despite my better judgment. I want to be the man that legend is, and not the one he really was. I want to be better."

She was confused, he could tell, and to be honest, he didn't understand it himself. Why did he still call himself Emrys? It was a tie to his old life, something reminding him of the happiness he had once enjoyed, but more often than not, it was a taunt, reminding him of the failures of his past. It was almost masochistic. He must always remember his failures, but at the same time, aspire to be the man he should have been. If that was even possible.

Lady Rowena didn't say anything further; she was staring at him intently, as though he was some sort of riddle she was trying to unravel. She was determined to understand him. Well, he didn't understand himself, how could she?

Just then, they were interrupted by a scream from Helena. Lady Rowena leapt to her feet immediately, but there was no danger; Helena had screamed from excitement and not fear. She came running up to her mother, tottering about on unsteady legs with restricted movement under all the clothes she was wearing. She began pointing at something earnestly in the trees by the lake.

"Mama! Look, mama! Look!"

Merlin and Lady Rowena looked, and saw in amongst the thick trees a wild boar, its snout ruffling around in the undergrowth for food. It completely ignored them.

"Look, mama!" Helena squealed, running up to her mother and pulling on her robes. "Like your dream!"

"Dream?" Merlin asked.

Helena nodded earnestly. "Mama had a dream about a big pig. It had lots of warts on it!"

"That's enough, Helena," Lady Rowena said sharply, and seized hold of her daughter's hand. "Come, we should get back inside in the warm before you fall ill again."

They started back up to the castle and Merlin followed, thoroughly amused. Lady Rowena seemed determined to ignore him.

He fell in step with her and tried to start conversation casually.

"So," he said, in Latin so that Helena would not hear, "do you often dream about warty pigs?"

She shot him a scathing look. "We cannot control what we dream about."

He laughed. "It seems interesting. When did you have this dream?"

"Is this important?"

"Indulge me," he said, highly amused by her reluctance to talk on such a trivial matter. Here was a woman who took delight in deep intellectual conversations and not on whimsical matters. He would like to change that.

She rolled her eyes. "It was not long after I gave birth to Helena, when I was living with Helga, and the three of us began thinking about building the school."

"Go on," said Merlin, suddenly intrigued and wondering whether there was more to this dream than sheer triviality.

"I saw it wandering through the mountains of my home country," she said, her eyes distant, "moving through the wilderness with purpose. It stopped finally and lay down to rest by a great lake surrounded by mountains."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Like here?"

She shook her head. "It may have looked similar to here," she said, waving her hand, "but I doubt it is the same place. I had never been here before so I could not have dreamt of it."

He smiled. "Unless it was a sign sent to tell you that this is the spot where you should found your school."

She laughed, and suddenly her entire face and demeanor was changed. Merlin liked it.

"I do not believe in messages in dreams, Master Emrys," she said, her eyes twinkling. "It was a simple childish dream that I tell to my daughter to amuse her. It has no hidden meaning."

"Really?" Merlin asked, deciding to provoke her. "I trust then that you have never read Herodotus, or any of the other Greek writers."

It worked. She wheeled around, her eyes blazing. "Of course I have!" she said, outraged. "What scholar has not?"

He chuckled. "And did you miss out the story of the foundation of Thebes, and other ancient cities?"

She seemed to understand his meaning now, and sighed. "You mean the legends that ancient cities were founded after the images of animals came to their founders in dreams? That Cadmus followed a sacred cow through the wilderness at the bidding of the Oracle of Delphi and marked the spot where it lay down to found the city of Thebes."

"Exactly," said Merlin. "Perhaps this is one of those times."

She smiled condescendingly. "That is myth. It has no basis in fact. We chose this spot to found the school because of its excellent location, not because I followed some warty hog in a silly dream."

"Myth?" Merlin asked. "So you believe it to be worthless, that you can find no meaning from it? You'd be surprised just how many myths have basis in fact. Such as Camelot."

"Those are no myths," Lady Rowena said immediately. "They are fact."

Merlin almost laughed. "You'd be surprised just how much has been distorted." He watched her for a moment. "Don't dismiss this dream, my Lady. Perhaps it has meaning."

She raised her eyebrows. "You mean it has significance? What should I do, use a hog covered in warts on the school crest? Name the school after it?"

Merlin laughed. "Why not? It's certainly distinctive!"

She sighed. "This school is supposed to be a serious endeavor, not some childish adventure. I will not have such a silly crest or name."

"Nothing wrong with a bit of silliness," said Merlin, amused.

"Yes, there is."

"Perhaps you should not think so," Merlin said. "Embrace the silliness, my Lady. Do not always be so upright and serious."

She ignored him, and pressed forward, seemingly trying to get away from him, practically dragging her daughter along with her. They soon reached the Entrance Hall. A house-elf came hurrying forwards to take their cloaks.

"If you please, Mistress Rowena," the elf squeaked. "The other Founders are waiting for you in the Great Hall and want to talk to you about something. You too, Master Emrys," the elf added.

Lady Rowena handed Helena over to the elf.

"Take Miss Helena to Scáthach in Ravenclaw Tower. She is to remain in the nursery while I talk with the others."

"I want to come!" said Helena, pouting. "Uncle Godric said he'd let me ride on his horse with him!"

Lady Rowena looked firm. "He is very busy today, Helena," she said, sternly. "He will take you when he can, and certainly not on such a cold day as this."

"But-"

"Do not argue," Lady Rowena said. "Go with Hobby."

Helena seemed to sulk and look upset, but she took the offered hand of the house-elf and walked off with him, looking thoroughly miserable.

Merlin chuckled. "She has a mind of her own, much like her mother."

Lady Rowena almost seemed to smile, but she hid her emotions. "Good," she said instead. "I would not have it said that a daughter of mine is weak and easily led."

She moved away from him and instead moved to the great door that led to the hall beyond. Merlin followed in interest, curious to see what lay beyond.

He passed through the great doors and, not for the first time since he'd arrived, felt his breath taken away. The hall beyond was  _huge_ , several times larger than the Entrance Hall they had entered from, which itself had seemed massive. Large flagstones made up the floor and there were a great many windows and fireplaces along the tall walls. He breathed out in admiration at the sheer size. He tried to imagine the place packed with students, all eager to learn magic and found himself smiling.

The most striking feature however was that there was no roof; the massive walls just opened out into nothingness, through which a cold wind was blasting. Lady Rowena paid it no heed and crossed over the room to the group that was clustered in the middle. Helga and Godric were there, as was Slytherin along with several workmen. Helga smiled as he approached, but Slytherin scowled.

"Ah, Rowena!" boomed Godric in that massive voice of his. "And how is little Helena?"

"Much recovered," Lady Rowena answered. "She eagerly anticipates the horse ride you promised her."

Godric laughed. "So she remembers that, does she? I promised her that in the midst of her delirious fever! It seems I cannot escape it now."

"No, and I would curse you to oblivion if you were to attempt it," said Helga severely. "You promised-"

"Yes, I know," said Godric, sighing as he looked at her. "Do you really think I would disappoint her?" He smiled, and then he noticed Merlin and his smile faltered a little. "Emrys! I had hoped you would not have to see the place in such a mess! I wanted to have it completed!"

"It is incredible the way it is," said Merlin, looking around with interest. "I cannot believe the scale."

"Well, we intend to house hundreds of students here," said Helga, "it must be large. This is to be the dining area, you see."

Merlin nodded. "A fine bit of work."

"But incomplete," interrupted Slytherin, looking displeased. He turned to the workmen. "Why on earth is it not yet completed? The roof should be done by now!"

"Begging your pardon, sir," said the man, his English accented. "But it just won't work."

"Explain," said Lady Rowena, looking up.

"We can't get material," said the man. "There's not enough wood around here that's strong enough. It just keeps collapsing."

"Then reinforce it with magic," said Slytherin. "Surely you could have thought of that?"

"We did," said the man, looking a bit put out. "But though that would serve right now, it wouldn't last. It's not how magical masonry works. Spells won't last forever, and they need to be replaced. The roof needs to be strong enough in its own right, otherwise when the spell wears out, the whole thing will just collapse without warning."

"We could renew the spells every few years or so," said Godric. "Surely it's not difficult?"

"It's very difficult, my Lord," the man said. "The spell needs to be calculated exactly in order to strengthen it properly, or it may have the opposite effect."

"This is ridiculous," said Slytherin. "There are spells throughout the rest of the school, why should this be any different?"

"Because of the way the walls were constructed," said the man, looking exasperated. "The roof needs to be especially strong, and the spells needed to reinforce the wood run out quickly and require exact calculations, for many, many years. It's a waste of time and energy. The roof needs to be able to support itself; the magic is to reinforce the wood, not replace it."

Slytherin rolled his eyes. "I do not understand the difficulty."

"With all due respect, sir," said the man, looking annoyed. "You may have many vaults filled with gold and jewels, but you know nothing of masonry. I told you from the beginning that this design was flawed. I can build you a roof certainly, but it will not be strong enough. It'll wear out in just a few years."

Godric frowned. "Can't you import stronger wood?"

"Yes," said the man, "but it will take weeks to get here."

Slytherin sighed. "This roof is causing more trouble than it's worth."

"Could you help?" Godric asked Merlin suddenly. "Could … your magic make a difference?"

Merlin looked up and considered it. It did not seem so very difficult to him. The Founders should certainly be able to use magic strong enough for the roof; Old Magic was in every other part of the castle, and their input here would be more than enough. If he were to train them in how to use the magic within them properly …

Yes, he was certain it would work, and without too much effort. But he feigned worry in front of the mason; it would not do to admit to being able to do it without much trouble when he knew himself how much power it would take. Surely the man was suspicious enough with all the rest of the strange magic in the castle.

"Perhaps. But it would take a while to figure out the  _exact_  spell to use."

"I tell you, there's no magic strong enough to hold up that roof the way it is," the man insisted.

Godric chuckled, taking Merlin's hidden meaning. "Emrys here is not like other wizards."

Merlin smiled, though his heart was heavy.  _How true that was._

Slytherin rolled his eyes, and walked away. "Inform me when there's someone of any sense around. I shall be-"

"-in the dungeons," answered Helga. "Of course you will be." She frowned as she looked up and looked thoughtful. "You know, I rather like it without the roof. It makes the place seem so much larger, like we're reaching out into the heavens themselves."

"Don't be ridiculous, Helga," said Lady Rowena sharply. "We need a roof."

"Still," sad Helga, a look of deep concentration on her face. "It would be nice …"

"Well, I'll leave the problem up to you Helga and you Emrys," Lady Rowena said sarcastically. "Make a roof out of the clouds themselves if you wish. I must away to supervise the finishing of my library."

"A roof out of clouds," mused Helga, as Lady Rowena turned and headed out of the room. Leaving Helga with Godric and the mason, Merlin turned and followed Lady Rowena. He caught up with her in the Entrance Hall.

"A roof of clouds," said Merlin, and she stopped and turned to face him. "Sounds good to me."

She raised an eyebrow. "You seem to delight in ridiculous suggestions."

He smiled. "I thought you would have liked that; don't you like studying the stars? An endless hall, without wood for a roof and nothing but the stars themselves, does that not appeal to you?"

She scoffed. "This is Alba. It rains, and it snows, and it hails. The students would die of exposure."

He smiled. "Not if we can find a way around it."

She stepped towards him, looking intrigued. "Is that the power your Old Magic possesses? Making a roof out of the sky itself?"

"I don't know," said Merlin truthfully. "There are things even I do not understand about my magic. But we could work together. We could figure out a way. You can do anything you set your mind to, my Lady. Do not limit yourself to what you read in books. Make your own rules."

She observed him with scrutiny. A smile tugged at her lips.

"Teach me," she said, her eyes filled with a hunger. "Teach me this magic."

"I will," he said. "But not yet."

"Why not?" she asked, looking bewildered.

"I want you all to embrace it," he answered. "I will not teach one at a time. It must be all of you. You must all work together."

She frowned in frustration. "Why do you take pleasure in tormenting me this way? I want to learn this magic! You say you know me, well then you must know that I must study everything new to me. It is important."

He smiled in amusement. "Does knowledge matter that much to you?"

"Yes," she said immediately.

"It shouldn't," said Merlin. "I will teach you what I can, but not yet. And even then, you must be content with some mystery. Not everything about the Old Religion is meant for mortals to understand."

She scowled. "I cannot abide mysteries."

"Why not?" he asked. "What is wrong with mystery?"

"Mystery is meant to be solved," she said. "It has no other purpose.'

He smiled. "I hope to change your mind one day, Rowena."

And he turned and headed back out into the grounds, ready for some more silent contemplation. He heard her call out frustrated behind him.

"I have not given you leave to address me by my first name!"

He laughed, and turned once more to look at her outraged expression. "No, you haven't."

And he turned and left. Perhaps a even more direct approach would get through to her.

She was a complex woman, sad and lonely; she needed to know that there was no shame in familiarity and whimsy. He would help her see the pleasures life could offer. There was more to life to study, and he hoped he'd help her to see that.

After all, the Old Religion may be studied and learned, but only a true master could understand it, because he appreciated the subtle mystery of it. Rowena Ravenclaw would never succeed unless she embraced that. None of them would.

And with Slytherin still not willing to even speak to him … how was he to get them all to come together and realise their destiny?

He went to sleep that night, thinking of the day when he could finally begin to teach them. Once more he examined his motives; was Rowena right, and he was only doing this out of a sense to ease his own guilt? What was it he hoped to accomplish? Would these four people return the Old Religion to the world? And if they did, what use would it be? Camelot could never be recreated, even if he wanted it to be, should he even try?

He soon fell into an uneasy sleep. There was something about this place that was making him question everything he had believed in for over three centuries, and for the first time in years, he was unsure of himself.

How could one school cause him to so easily question everything he had held to for over three hundred years?


	9. Encountering Prejudice

"Can we make this work?" Helga asked him, her brow furrowed in concentration, looking down at the spell book before her. "Can it truly be done?"

"Why not?" Merlin asked. "I've seen many things happen that no one believed was possible."

"I still say the two of you are insane," said Rowena from a corner, turning a page of a thick book. "It will not work."

"Only if you continue being so pessimistic," countered Merlin.

The three of them were sitting in the half-completed library, pouring over old books. The room was large, with only one end of it still covered with scaffolding, and looked it would house thousands of books comfortably. There were many windows which let the morning light stream in and illuminate the books inside. There weren't many; just what came from some of the Founder's personal collections, and since Rowena and Salazar had both had to flee from their homes and abandon their possessions there were few on the shelves. There were a great many intricately carved towering bookcases, still smelling of fresh wood. Their empty shelves gave Merlin a thrill of excitement as he imagined just how many centuries of knowledge and learning would soon fill them. They were a promise of greater things to come.

Rowena was sitting by a window pouring over some manuscript, while Merlin and Helga were at a table making notes on some parchment.

"I'm still not sure why the roof won't work," said Merlin, frowning. "You've managed to infuse magic into every other part of the castle, and those spells will last for centuries. Why won't the same apply to the roof?"

"It is different," Rowena immediately explained, not looking at him. "The spells in the walls are Anti-Muggle charms, protective wards and spells to stop them from weathering. The stones themselves are strong enough to support the walls, but the wood in the roof is not. It requires structural spells to keep it up, and they will wear out, unlike the other spells in the castle."

"Well then," said Helga, concentrating on the page in front of her. "We need to think up a spell that will last longer, perhaps fused with this Old Religion magic of Emrys'."

She frowned and looked thoughtful. "I still disagree, Rowena. I'm not sure I even want a roof."

Rowena sighed in exasperation. "We need a roof, Helga! It is one of the basic necessities of a building!"

"Yes," said Helga, "but I want it to be … invisible. "

"An invisible roof?" Rowena asked sceptically, now turning away from her book. "And how would that work exactly?"

"It would protect the people below from the weather," said Helga, "but it would look like the sky outside."

Rowena shook her head. "The spellwork needed would be incredible," she said. "You'd need layers upon layers of structural spells, and atmospheric and imitation spells to show the sky outside without letting the weather in, and-"

"I know," said Helga. "But I still want it."

"But why?" Rowena asked.

"It would look amazing in sunshine," said Helga, smiling. "Just imagine: all the children sitting there at breakfast laughing and smiling with each other as brilliant sunlight streams down from above. And at dinner, the night sky twinkling above them."

"You know that brilliant sunshine is a rarity in this part of the world," said Rowena. "More often than not the roof would be grey and cloudy, with thunder and rain. It would look gloomy and dull. Not very impressive."

"I disagree," said Helga. "We must take the good weather with the bad; it's only to be expected. It would be a wonder to see whatever weather it was. They could see the weather without even stepping outside!"

"I suppose you've never heard of windows?"

"Come on, Rowena," said Merlin, smiling himself at her scowl as he used her first name. "Don't you want a challenge? Think how people would admire your intelligence and skill when they see it!"

For a moment, Rowena looked tempted, and her eyes drifted out of focus. But she shook herself.

"You are as bad as she is," she said. "Why must you encourage her?"

"Because I think it is a great idea," he said, "it is unique. Something that will remain with the people that see it for the rest of their days. This is a place of learning, is it not? What better way to show to the children that the sky is the limit? Literally."

She sighed and turned away.

"Don't dismiss it," Merlin said. "I know you're considering it."

"It defies all laws of magic-"

"All laws that you currently understand," Merlin interrupted. "There is a whole world of magic that you do not yet see. Don't be so narrow-minded. Anything is possible."

Rowena tried to look indifferent, but Merlin could almost see her mind at work. She looked down at the book before her and tried to read, but eventually she cast it aside with an exasperated sigh and moved over to their table, drawing up a chair of her own.

"Fine," she said, "I will humour you, for now. But I still have my doubts."

Merlin smiled. For the next hour or so, the two witches debated what spells to use, the calculations and the practicalities of what they were attempting. Merlin didn't say much, but observed them in silence; he wasn't going to interfere in their thought processes too much. They were the Founders, this was their school, he was merely a guide.

Eventually, Rowena looked back up at him. "Do you think this will work?"

He leaned in and looked at the notes she had made. He nodded. "The basics are right, but I think you are severely underestimating the power needed."

"But how can we get more?"

"Use the Old Religion," he said, "all four of you."

They turned to him. "But we haven't yet mastered it."

"You don't need to," he said. "Your magic has that inherent quality to it. I think if the four of you cast the spell at the same time, it will work. You must find the power of the Old Religion within yourselves and in each other. Then, you will have your roof of clouds."

"But don't we have to study this magic first?" Rowena asked him, frowning.

"No," he said, feeling oddly sure about something he couldn't explain. "This will be your first test, I think. So far, the school has been built on your own ingenuity and cunning, and I don't want to interfere with that just yet. I want this to come from you, not from me. Follow your instincts. Once the four of you combine your magic together like that, I will know you are ready to study it properly."

"I don't like attempting something in an amateur fashion," Rowena said, her eyes narrowed.

He chuckled. "Of course, you're the ever-professional. There's nothing wrong with a bit of gut talent."

She raised an eyebrow. "I have spent many years studying and mastering a great number of things. There is no raw talent involved, only discipline and extensive study. Anyone can achieve it if they try hard enough."

"No," Merlin said, amused. "Only you four have this unique talent. That is why you were all brought together like this, and why I came here only after you had discovered your magic for yourselves. I'm a guide, not a tool for your own betterment."

Rowena shook her head and looked away in sheer bewilderment, looking thoroughly annoyed that she did not understand. Helga also looked concerned.

"There may be a problem, Emrys," she said doubtfully. "Salazar has not yet accepted you. He will not do this."

"If you ask him, he will," said Merlin, but he had his own doubts. "Lord Salazar will have to trust me implicitly and embrace the magic within him. Once he has done that, then your instruction can begin."

"And how can you do that?" asked Rowena. "Salazar knows how to bear a grudge. He does not like you, and I doubt he ever will."

"I have never seen him like this," said Helga, looking distressed. "He never really cared much about Muggles before, but now he really hates them. I hope it is only a phase. I doubt this school will last long if one of its founding members houses such hatred."

"He lost his family in the most brutal way imaginable," said Merlin gravely, once again seeing the sight of those burned bodies in his mind's eye. "Sometimes, there can be no forgiving. Hatred can consume. Sometimes, you just cannot end it."

He felt a small surge of anger within him as he remembered the own hatred he bore. Morgana, despicable and irredeemable, he had not killed her as he should have. He had imprisoned her, consigned her to an eternity of torture. The legends spoke of the great Merlin's compassion and mercy, yet he had shown none of that, choosing to punish her for eternity instead. Was he irredeemable now too? Was he any better than Salazar Slytherin?

"You must talk to him," urged Helga. "He's a reasonable man who is suffering greatly. Perhaps your wisdom can help."

Rowena scoffed. "If none of us can reach him, I doubt a complete stranger can. Especially one who was there the day the massacre occurred."

"Nonetheless, I have to try," said Merlin, and he stood up and swept out the library, determined to seek him out.

He wandered around the castle hallways and down the changing staircases, feeling a little lost. He eventually found his way to the Entrance Hall however which he crossed to reach the entrance to the dungeons. He descended deep into the heart of the school, where it was cold and clammy. His breath rose in mists before his face and he shivered. Who on earth would wish to come down here in the depths of winter?

He reached the door to the room where he knew Salazar Slytherin would be and paused for a moment before knocking. A voice answered from within:

"Whoever who are, go away."

Merlin smiled wryly; now here was a challenge.

Instead of leaving, he pushed open the door, easily circumventing the spells on the lock. Inside, Slytherin was sitting at the same table as before, huge stacks of books and parchment around him. The desks in the room were covered with vials and bottles housing liquids of strange colours. Cauldrons bubbled here and there, strong aromas arising from each of them and filling the air with thick smoke of different colours. It almost reminded Merlin of Gaius' workbench in Camelot.

In the midst of all this activity, his cheeks flushed pink with the smoke and steam of the cauldrons was Slytherin himself. He flushed even deeper when he saw who it was.

"Get out," he said in a dangerous tone.

"No," said Merlin simply, moving further into the room.

Slytherin leapt to his feet. "Do not try my patience!"

"Same to you," said Merlin firmly. "I wish to talk to you. Stop being so difficult."

Slytherin sneered. "I have no wish to talk to you."

He turned and seated himself back at his bench, glaring at him. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Pity," said Merlin. "I thought you would have wanted to learn more of this Old Magic."

"I am not entirely sure that you even possess such power," Slytherin answered.

Merlin smiled. "Do not lie. You know it. You have seen it. And you feel it within you, you and I are kin. Our magic is similar."

Slytherin looked away. "I have no wish to be associated with you."

"Because you still blame me for what happened?" Merlin said softly. "You know that there was nothing I could have done to prevent it."

"You could have found the cure," Slytherin said, his eyes blazing. "The same cure you used for Rowena's daughter."

"I tried," Merlin answered, his heart heavy. "But the magic would not work. That child could not be saved, Helena could. The Old Religion chose to spare her."

"And the Old Religion condemned my family to death?" Slytherin asked, fuming. "It sacrificed them? In that case, I have no desire to learn it."

"I don't know what the Old Religion has planned," said Merlin. "But I do know that everything that happens is for a reason."

Slytherin leapt to his feet once more, shaking in anger. "I cannot believe there was a reason for the slaughter of my five year old cousin," he said, his eyes bulging. "The one I held as dear as a sister. I will never learn the magic that let that happen."

"It is your destiny," said Merlin. "You are  _meant_  to learn this magic."

"I have no care for destiny," he said. "I refuse to allow myself to be ruled by it."

"I was like that once," said Merlin, raising his own voice to counter Slytherin's. "But I had to accept it, however hard it was. I lost someone very dear to me, but I must have faith in the Old Religion that everything will be alright. It is how I got through the grief. I must believe there is some greater purpose."

The loss of Arthur still stung, and Merlin found himself shaking in emotion. Slytherin shook his head.

"That is your folly," said Slytherin. "I will not learn it."

"The others-"

"I don't care about the others!" Slytherin yelled.

"Yes you do," said Merlin severely. "You joined with them because you know that they are the same as you. That there is a greater destiny awaiting all four of you. You cannot run from this. You must learn to accept it. And I will wait here until that day, however long it takes."

Slytherin glared at him once more, before sitting down again. He shuffled some papers on his desk, obviously trying to look busy. Merlin came a little closer.

"What are you working on?"

Slytherin stiffened as he spoke, and avoided his gaze.

"That is none of your business."

Merlin smiled. "It is if I'm to remain in this castle. I could help you."

"I need no help."

"Really," Merlin asked in amusement, looking around the room at the mess and smoking cauldrons. "Looks to me as if you're experimenting, and it's not going well."

Slytherin ignored him, but Merlin saw the truth of the matter in his face.

Merlin looked over the list of ingredients that he was using. "It looks as if you're trying to make some sort of … anti-burn potion," Merlin said, beginning to see what was really going on.

Slytherin jerked a little. "And what if I am?"

Merlin looked down. "This is what you've been working on for the last six weeks, is it not? Ever since you came back?"

Slytherin began crushing some ingredients in a bowl with great fervour and did not answer.

Merlin nodded and stepped back. "You're trying to create a potion that will stop people from being burned at the stake. Something that will protect them."

"And is that so wrong?" Slytherin asked him, throwing down his pestle and glaring at him. "Is it so wrong that I want to stop this from happening again?"

"No," said Merlin softly. "But from what the others said, you've been so fixated on this that you're neglecting everything else, including yourself."

"You have no idea what it is like," said Slytherin in a low and dangerous voice. "I must do this. Nothing else matters."

"Not the school?" Merlin asked.

"What use is a school if there are no more magical children left to fill it?" Slytherin said dismissively.

"This isn't the answer," said Merlin. "A potion to stop people being burned is a good thing, yes, but it only treats the symptoms, not the disease. Your best bet is to focus on the school, educate the children to tolerate and respect their fellow human beings. Then there won't be a need for the potion at all."

Slytherin laughed hollowly. "You are very optimistic, Emrys. You have too much faith in mankind. It is in our nature to hate those who are not like us. That will never change."

"It can if someone only has the courage to try it," said Merlin firmly.

"It would take centuries-"

"Then let it!" said Merlin. "It may take centuries for Muggle and wizards to come to a time where they can live together in peace and harmony, but it will not happen at all unless someone is willing to start it off. You may not live to see the benefits of it, but future generations will. And they will praise the Founders for their daring and self-sacrifice. Sometimes there are just larger forces at work."

Slytherin smiled grimly, and looked up to Merlin.

"You are deluded, Emrys," he said. He paused for a moment, searching his face with the emerald eyes that reminded Merlin starkly of the mother he had met at the Slytherin castle. "Why did you stop me killing them?" he asked, softly. "The real reason this time."

"I gave you it," Merlin said. "I knew your destiny was going to be tied up with mine, and a massacre of innocent people wouldn't have been the best way for us to start down that path."

"They deserved to die," said Slytherin, though now he sounded less certain and oddly emotional. "How could they have …"

He stopped suddenly and seemed to try to be pulling himself together.

"Don't punish the past," said Merlin, "you'll only end up punishing yourself. Focus on the present, and the future. Stop it from happening again."

Slytherin smiled again. "That's what I'm going to do," he said, meeting Merlin's eyes. "This potion will ensure that."

Merlin shook his head sadly. He didn't yet see his true destiny; he was still grieving. Perhaps he should just let him get on with the potion; this may be the only way he could resolve his grief and bitterness. He wouldn't rest easy until it was done. But Merlin hoped he'd soon realise the school was the more important thing.

Merlin turned to leave, knowing that he wouldn't get any further with him at his point. Just as he was going through the doorway, he stopped and turned his head to look back at him.

"Potions aren't easy to brew for most people," Merlin said, "and they tend to run out quickly. Perhaps a spell would be better suited for what you're attempting."

He stayed only long enough to notice Slytherin's angry, and then thoughtful expression, before he turned and left the room, closing the heavy door behind him. He stalked through the corridors, his mind still in the room behind. How best to get through to him? What could he possibly say to someone who'd lost their entire family in such a brutal manner?

He was so lost in thought that he almost found himself lost in the labyrinth of passages beneath the castle. He began to concentrate and soon found his way out of the dark and gloomy underbelly of the school and back into the Entrance Hall. He was just crossing it when the doors to outside were flung open and Merlin stopped in surprise.

Godric was running through the doors and across the hall, looking half-mad with excitement, his hair and beard wild. He was dripping wet, with rushes hanging from his robes and beard. He caught sight of Merlin and stopped with a joyous cry.

"Emrys! You'll never guess!" he boomed, running over to him, slipping slightly on the water he was dripping onto the floor. "It's friendly!"

"Friendly?" asked Merlin in bemusement. "What is?"

"The Squid!" yelled Godric, looking delighted. "The Giant Squid!"

"Oh?" asked Merlin, barely suppressing his laughter at the state Godric was in. "And how do you know that?"

"I leapt in the lake when I saw it," Godric began, speaking quickly. "And it wrapped itself around me. Of course, at first I thought it was trying to attack me, so I punched it a couple of times. But then it let go and moved back. It looked right at me! With one great eye larger than my head! I was too shocked to do much about it, and I began swimming to the surface, but the robes I was wearing were too heavy and I wasn't rising fast enough and I began to panic that I would run out of air. And you know what the creature did? You'll never guess! It reached out with those massive long legs of its, and it  _pushed me to the surface!_  Can you believe it? It saved my life! Remarkable creature!"

Merlin couldn't restrain his laughter at this point. "I'm sure it is," he laughed. "Sounds quite ambivalent. But why on earth did you jump in? Didn't Helga forbid it? Especially in all this cold weather."

"I had to ascertain its allegiance!" Godric protested. "And now we know it's friendly, Helga can rest quite safely in her bed in the knowledge it is not about to eat a student."

Merlin nodded. "Good, but you had better go and tell Lady Rowena. She still doesn't believe the creature exists."

Godric rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know. But even this account won't be enough to convince her; she insists she must see it with her own eyes. She'd probably try and say I was wrestling with a deformed seal or something."

Merlin smiled, but Salazar Slytherin was still resting heavily on his mind. Godric seemed to notice. His eyes flicked towards the entrance to the dungeons.

"You haven't been visiting with Salazar have you?" Godric asked, his good mood dampened a little. He sighed when he saw Merlin's face. "He would not have welcomed your presence. I have never seen him like this before."

"That's what Helga said," said Merlin. "Is it out of character?"

Godric thought for a moment. "That's the thing, to someone who doesn't know him well, it would seem not. He's always been a quiet chap, prefers to be alone and study. But those who  _do_  know him well can say otherwise. He may always have been solitary, but he was always witty, always cunning and had a good sense of humour, even though he didn't often show it. But I have seen only the side of him that is obsessed with whatever project he is working on at the moment ever since he returned. He has not laughed, he has not voluntarily joined us in any endeavour at all. He stays there all day and night. I worry for him."

Merlin nodded, trying to understand the mysterious Slytherin a little better. "How long have you known him?"

"Practically all my life," nodded Godric. "We're distantly related, you know, most pure-blooded families are. His father was always away traveling on the Continent and his mother and mine would often visit each other, so Salazar and I more or less grew up together. That was how we discovered that our magic was different from all of our other friends and family's. We tried to access that part of us that we could sense was different, but we didn't have that much success. We drifted apart when we got older as our mothers became too old to travel much. But when Helga, Rowena and I started to build this school I knew that I had to go and talk to him. We alone had that strange magic, and I knew that he should be involved. So he came with us, without much persuasion, to help build the castle. Until this incident he'd been as enthusiastic as the rest of us."

Godric sighed heavily. "A complete tragedy. I never met his aunt, cousin or the little girl, but I knew Cassandra Slytherin very well. Like a second mother to me, despite the fact she scared the life out of me. That snake of hers used to terrify me as a boy!"

Merlin smiled. "Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting her, and the snake of course. Quite formidable, but a good woman, I thought."

He nodded gravely. "That she was. Very like my own mother, shame they both had to suffer at the hands of Muggles."

Merlin frowned. "Your mother? She's not-"

"Oh, no no," Godric said hastily. "She's not dead. But some Muggles broke into the house and, well, they roughed my parents up a bit. They didn't have their wands on them, you see, and the Muggles did some exceptionally cruel things to them. But they managed to escape and they're living safely now down on the south coast. But, like Salazar, I had so much hate for Muggles after that happened. I wanted to kill every last one of them. But, after time, I realised how foolish that was. And then when I met Helga and Rowena … well, Rowena wanted to stop people from suffering in the way that she did, Helga just wanted to help others, and I realised that this was the perfect way to protect my family and others like them. Stop the ignorance, and you stop the violence."

Godric was silent for a moment before shaking himself slightly. "There's me going and getting all sentimental! I must go and tell Helga about the Squid!" He turned to run off and up the marble staircase, but he stopped to turn and say one last thing to Merlin. "By the way, my Dueling Chamber should be complete by this evening the mason tells me. Care to come and inspect it with me tomorrow morning?"

Merlin grinned. "I look forward to it."

Godric grinned in return and raced up the staircase, shouting at the top of his lungs: "HELGA! YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT!"

Merlin laughed softly and crossed the Entrance Hall, avoiding the wet patches Godric had left everywhere. He paused at the still open doors and looked out over the grounds.

Godric had suffered at the hands of Muggles, and he had overcome his hatred for the better. He had to have faith that Slytherin would do the same.


	10. Duels and Books

"Master Emrys! Master Emrys!"

Merlin awoke with a jerk to find Tenga, the house-elf standing beside his bed, blinking with those massive eyes. He grinned broadly when he saw Merlin was awake.

"Good morning, sir! Tenga has your breakfast!"

Merlin smiled as he got out of bed. "I already told you, Tenga. You don't need to bring me breakfast every morning. I'm used to getting it myself."

Tenga shook his tiny head and pointed eagerly to the tray of food on the table. "You is in a castle now, sir! Tenga will do it for you. Mistress Helga says Tenga is to treat you as we would treat one of them!"

Merlin sighed and began tucking into breakfast, knowing he was defeated. Yet, it still puzzled him. He had  _hated_  being a servant most of the time. It seemed strange that an entire race of creatures would  _enjoy_  it.

"What is sir doing today, if Tenga can ask?" the elf asked, clearing away the mess of clothes Merlin had left on the floor.

"I'm meeting with Godric," Merlin explained. "To see this Dueling Chamber he's built."

Tenga nodded knowledgably. "Master Godric has worked very hard on that chamber. Tenga doesn't understand why however. Why must children learn to hurt each other?"

Merlin sighed. "It's just the way of the world, I'm afraid. Hopefully, one day, fighting won't be needed at all."

"Tenga hopes so, sir," he replied. "He doesn't like the thought of children being turned into soldiers. But Tenga supposes they need to know how to defend themselves."

Merlin was struck by a sudden thought. "How do house-elves defend themselves?" he asked. "Can you do magic?"

Tenga shook his head. "Not like wizards can. We isn't usually allowed wands. But we can do other things."

"Like what?" Merlin asked, curious.

"Like this," he said, and suddenly, he disappeared with a loud 'CRACK'. Merlin jumped and was baffled for a moment before he heard another crack behind him. Tenga was standing there, giggling.

"That's brilliant," said Merlin, grinning.

"It is only Apparition, sir," said the elf. "Some wizards can do it as well. We taught them, but they aren't very good at it. They can't go very far and sometimes they leave parts of their bodies behind them! House-elves are much better at it."

"I'm sure," said Merlin. "I've never heard of Apparition." This wasn't the first time he'd been caught off guard; before coming to Hogwarts he had never heard of house-elves either. He really needed to spend more time among his own kind.

"It isn't very common yet, sir," answered Tenga, "but all the Founders can do it. Master Salazar wanted to Apparate home when he heard all of the trouble that was going on, but Mistress Rowena said it would be too dangerous to go so far, so he went by horse instead."

Merlin slumped in his chair, feeling suddenly much sadder. Obviously, this 'Apparition' was a vague imitation of the spells he himself could do to move from place to place. If only the method had been more refined, perhaps Slytherin could have gotten home in time …

Merlin pulled himself out of these gloomy thoughts. Perhaps he could teach them a way to improve Apparition by combining it with Old Magic. He'd have to look into it. He didn't often follow modern magical theory; if he was to combine the Old and New forms of magic, he'd need to much more versed in it than he currently was.

After a few more words with Tenga, Merlin finished his breakfast and quickly dressed in the rich clothes that he was still uncomfortable wearing. Tenga waited patiently.

"Tenga will show Master Emrys to the Dueling Chamber now!" he squeaked excitedly, and Merlin followed him out of the room and along many twisting corridors. He was eventually led to a part of the castle that still seemed to be under construction, and had to duck under ladders and scaffolding. Tenga never halted in his pace however, and soon stopped outside a room with massive wooden doors that still smelled of sawdust.

"You can go in sir," Tenga said happily. "I will find Master Godric."

Merlin nodded, and the elf scurried away. He paused a moment before the doors, before pushing them open and entering. He stopped on the threshold and exhaled, mightily impressed.

The room was about as large as the Entrance Hall, with high ceilings stretching far upwards. There was little furniture, but the room seemed to radiate with magical energy, like all the rest of the castle. He strolled around the boundaries to the room for a while, astounded at the amount of time and effort that had been invested into this one room where every block of stone seemed to sing with magical energy.

"Do you like it then?"

Merlin turned to find that Godric had entered behind him, looking eager.

Merlin nodded. "There is much magic in the room, but I still think your Entrance Hall is more impressive."

"Ah, but you've only seen the surface!" Godric said, laughing. "There are many other features."

He withdrew his wand and waved it across the room. Then, small walls, ditches and other obstacles sprung out of the floor.

"A ready-made obstacle course," said Godric, gesturing. "To teach students how to duel in a variety of environments. It can be adjusted to whichever way the teacher sees fit." He waved his wand again and several dummies rose up with painted targets. "These will improve their aim. They'll move around and jump out at the students, testing their awareness and reflexes. Keep them on their toes, you know. The pattern they move in will be constantly changing. There are many other features as well. The environment will change, from baking sunlight, to frigid cold and cold rain so that they can practice dueling wherever they are. The floor will tilt and move. The walls will close in and they'll have to learn to remain calm. There will be many enchantments that will try to trick them: illusions of enemies where none exist, strange noises and constantly changing areas of shelter. The walls are all jinx proof, and if someone gets injured, all they have to do is this-" he waved his wand again for a small alcove to open in the wall "- and a healing potion or antidote will immediately be summoned from the Hospital Wing."

"Impressive," said Merlin, truthfully. "But where is the Hospital Wing? I don't remember that on our tour the other day."

Godric looked a bit sheepish here. "Ah yes, well, you see, it isn't built yet."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "You built a place for students to try and hurt each other without building somewhere to patch them up afterwards?"

"It wasn't a necessity at the time," protested Godric. "It's just a simple room; everywhere else needs a lot more work put into it. We'll get around to it. Helga wants to have a hand in it. She's quite a Healer herself."

Merlin nodded. He turned in a full circle, still examining the room. "I give you credit, it gets all the more impressive with every word you say."

Godric grinned, pleased with the praise. "Yes," he said, looking around himself. "I hadn't seen it completed yet, and I'm delighted with it. Helga was very critical of it."

"She just doesn't like Dueling," shrugged Merlin. "I don't either, as a matter of fact. I prefer using my magic for other purposes."

"Does that mean I won't get to see you in action?" Godric asked, winking. "I had the idea that you and I might duel."

Merlin smiled. "A duel between us would not last long."

"I am a very good dueler, Master Emrys," said Godric, puffing out his chest. "I am undefeated."

"And I am very good at Old Magic," Merlin retorted, a playful smirk on his face.

Godric held up his wand and waited expectantly, a small smug smile on his face. Merlin laughed internally. Alright, why not?

He withdrew his own wand, determined to use only Godric's own magic against him. He would play fair, at least, at first.

" _Reducto!"_ Godric cried, immediately leaping into the fray.

" _Protego!_ " Merlin countered easily, sending the spell soaring back at him. Godric leaped out of the way, nimble as a cat, and the spell hit the wall where it was easily absorbed by the magic in the stonework.

" _Duratus!"_ Merlin cried, and the force of the spell came rushing out of his meagre wand like a torrent and hit Godric's shield with the force of a hammer. Godric's eyebrows rose, but he did not lose his concentration.

_"Incendio!"_

They continued in this manner for several minutes. Merlin held back, wanting to test Godric's dueling abilities in as many ways as he could. He was an exceptional fighter, Merlin soon realised, as good as magical dueling as Arthur had been at the Muggle kind. His reflexes were quick and very agile, and he threw spell after spell at him with ease. Some of them seemed almost Old Religion in nature, though cast with the modern terminology. It was truly remarkable how Godric and the other Founders had fused the two magics together unknowingly.

Merlin waited long enough for him to display his exceptional power and skill, before deciding to bring the duel to an end.

" _Concilare!_ " Merlin cried, and the spell that hit Godric was twice as powerful than any he'd hit him with before. Godric went flying backwards and into one of the walls, his wand spiraling out of his hand. He crumpled to the ground, but soon leapt to his feet, and looked at Merlin in sheer amazement, and a little embarrassment.

"I have never seen such power in a spell before!" he exclaimed.

Merlin said nothing, and waited until Godric had come closer. He was watching him closely.

"But you were using modern spells," Godric said, frowning. "I thought Old Magic was different?"

"I wasn't using Old Magic," explained Merlin. "I was using your own magic. But since I am of the Old Religion itself, that magic is present within me always, and any spell I cast will always be more powerful."

Godric looked even more amazed. "You mean, you're far more powerful than even that which I have just witnessed?"

Merlin nodded, and despite feeling incredibly uncomfortable to be explaining his true powers to someone after so many years, he persisted because he knew it was right; if he expected them to be open, honest and trusting with him, he should do the same.

"You wouldn't have stood a chance against me if I'd been using my own magic," he said. "You're powerful, incredibly so, but only in comparison with your contemporaries. I'm much more powerful."

Godric watched him for a few moments, deep in thought, before eventually nodding. "I could … sense it," he said slowly. "Like there was some great power just resting inside of you, and I was only getting the tiniest of glimpses of it. I could tell that you were holding back, but I wasn't sure how. Was that this … Old Religion magic inside of me?"

Merlin nodded. "Yes. It could tell."

Godric nodded again. "It seems strange …." He started. "I've always had this power. I used it as a child, not knowing what I was doing. I could always do things my friends could not. I thought I was just an abnormality until I first met Salazar and the others. It's one of the reasons we are so close. We are the only ones with this magic, save you of course."

"My magic is straight from the Old Religion," Merlin said. "It is similar to yours, but not the same." He sighed. "I thought I was an abnormality as well," he said softly. "It was many years before I accepted my destiny and became proud of who and what I was."

"And are you still that way?" Godric asked.

Merlin was silent for a moment. "No," he said finally. "I thought I had fulfilled my destiny, but I was wrong, and now I have a new one that looks impossible. I failed in my past, and I suppose … I feel like this is my second chance."

He felt the old pain flare up. It had been his fault Arthur had died, his fault that the Old Religion had faded from the land. His new destiny was to await the day it would return, and apparently he was immortal until then, doomed to watch others die while he lingered on. Was it destiny? Or was it punishment? He wasn't sure any more. His faith wavered more than ever. These Founders  _h_ _ad_  to be the answer to his long awaited destiny.

He shook himself out of these thoughts however, before the old grief overwhelmed him.

Godric seemed not to notice his melancholy. "Well, shall we see what other surprises are in this new room? Then we have a lunch engagement."

"Lunch engagement?" Merlin asked. "I thought the Great Hall was still uncompleted?"

"It is," said Godric, "but we've decided to use one of the ante-chambers in the meantime. We may be having visits from investors in the near future according to the letter I received this morning, and we need somewhere to receive them. We might as well all start eating together. And I've got a rather special guest coming today," he said, his eyes sparkling.

"Will Lord Salazar be there?" Merlin asked.

Godric's face darkened. "No, he eats in his own chambers. I cannot convince him to leave."

Merlin sighed and tried not to feel disappointed. How was he to get through to him if he was always alone? Godric seemed to realise how he was feeling.

"He'll come around eventually," he said.

"I'm not sure I would, if I were he," said Merlin gloomily. "I was there in that village. I watched as things escalated and didn't do enough, even after his mother asked me to. I could have saved that girl the way I saved Helena, but the Old Religion didn't allow it. I was too slow to act. I heard all the whisperings, but I dismissed them. If I had just been there …"

"It was not your fault," said Godric, rather gruffly; it was evident he was unaccustomed to reassurance. "Do not blame yourself."

"I cannot help it," said Merlin. "It reminds me of another time, one where I let someone else die. It was my fault then as well. He was a close friend. You remind me of him sometimes."

Merlin looked away. Was he doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past? Was he going to watch these people grow old and die as well? Should he hope to befriend them if that was the case? Could he withstand that pain again? Would he ever once again be allowed to be known as himself rather than 'Emrys'?

He tried to forget these thoughts, and instead, walked around the room with Godric inspecting every detail of the chamber. Godric was insistent about testing each and every one of all the special features, and took delight in pitting them against Merlin, obviously trying to catch him out. The engineering and ingenuity in the room was incredible, and Merlin found himself increasingly impressed, but he couldn't take any joy in it. All the grins and laughs as Godric fought against all the features he designed, all the arrogant and smug little asides and daring just made him sadder and sadder. It reminded him so much of Arthur. Was he a fool for getting so close to these people? It would probably just cause him more pain if it turned out that they  _weren't_ the people he was waiting for.

Eventually, Godric was satisfied, and the two of them left the room and went down the many staircases. Merlin found himself lost within minutes; the entire floor layout had changed again. Rowena's idea to constantly change the layout was ingenious, but still frustrating.

Godric however led him confidently back down to the Entrance Hall and into a small antechamber beside it. As they entered, they were greeted with a roaring fire and a long table filled with all manner of delicious food that house-elves were carrying on golden plates. Seated at the table were Helga, Rowena, Helena and some small and strange creature that Merlin took to be a goblin, although he had not encountered one in many years. It narrowed its eyes as Godric and Merlin entered. It had a long package on its lap which it clutched to with vehemence. He hadn't touched any of the food before him.

Despite the goblin's less than warm welcome of Godric, the Founder looked delighted to see him.

"Ah! Groloth! It is finished then? Finally?"

"Yes, Lord Godric, it is," the goblin said slowly and carefully, as though unaccustomed to the human way of speaking. "Your mother and father sent me here directly."

Godric seemed to be almost skipping with delight, but Merlin and the ladies were bewildered. Helga's head shot between the two of them. "What is this thing that he has brought? He has refused to let it out of his grip."

"It is my coming-of-age present!" Godric announced, looking at the package with eager eyes.

Rowena raised one eyebrow. "Godric, you are four and twenty years old. Your coming-of-age was many years ago."

"Yes, but with all that trouble at home, and then me coming up here, I never got the chance to receive it," Godric said, his eyes glinting. "My parents sent word that it would be here before Yuletide, and here it is!"

"What is it?" Helga asked. She attempted to lean in to see what the goblin was holding, but he jerked the package out of reach.

"This is to be delivered to you personally," the goblin said, looking directly at Godric. He hopped off his chair and crossed the room. He held out the package to Godric, though looking extremely reluctant to be parting with it.

Godric bent and took the package from the goblin's clutching fingers, and slowly unwrapped it. He opened it with a flourish, and underneath was revealed an exquisite silver sword encrusted with rubies. Godric held it up in wonder, and the sword glinted in the light, and the rubies gleamed deep red, almost like blood. Along one side of the blade, were written the words 'Godric Gryffindor.'

Merlin didn't much care for swords, but even he had to admit it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. The only sword he had ever seen that bettered it was Excalibur itself.

"A sword?" Rowena asked sceptically. "What is so amazing about that?"

"I think it's pretty," said Helena, looking up at it in delight. "I like the red."

Rowena turned sharply to her daughter. "It is a weapon, Helena," she said. "It is supposed to kill people, not look pretty."

Helena frowned. "But why would Uncle Godric want to hurt people?"

"Why indeed?" Helga asked, sounding disapproving. "What use could you have for a Muggle weapon, Godric?"

"I won't use it," said Godric reassuringly, sheathing the sword and grinning.

"Then whatever is the point in having one?" asked Rowena, frowning.

"Because it looks good," grinned Godric.

"You mean it's merely to show off?"

"Correct."

Rowena rolled her eyes. "Why must men be always so willing to boast of their prowess?"

"Why you must always boast of your book learning?" Godric countered, moving over to the table with Merlin, sitting on the opposite side from the three ladies. He laid the sword on the table admiringly.

"Please, take that weapon away from my daughter before she wants one as well," Rowena said sharply, in Latin, glancing at Helena. Godric frowned as he tried to translate. One look from Helga however, and he understood, and reluctantly sheathed it. Merlin noticed the way he seemed to always do as Helga asked with a small smile on his face. He seemed more attached to her than he had previously thought.

Godric turned back to the goblin who had remained standing. "Will you stay and eat with us?"

"No," the goblin said immediately. "I must head back immediately."

"Very well," said Godric. "Thank you for bringing the sword. It is beautiful work."

"Of course it is," mumbled the goblin as he bowed slightly. "It was made by  _goblins_ , not foolish humans."

Just before he left, he sent Merlin a sharp glance, and Merlin felt a creeping sensation come over him under that intense scrutiny. The goblin saw something more than what the others did.

Fortunately however, the goblin merely bowed again, looking displeased, and left the room immediately. Merlin tried to forget this and eagerly joined in the conversation as they all ate. The food as usual was excellent, and Merlin found himself eating more in one meal here at the castle than he had eaten in an entire day just a few months ago. It wasn't unpleasant.

"Any thoughts then on what we should name the school?" Godric asked the room at large. "The school will be complete in a few months or so, and we should be prepared. We can't just keep calling it 'the school' when all those official people begin coming here."

"Emrys thinks we should not call the school Camelot as we had planned," said Rowena, watching Merlin closely. "Seems a little strange, considering his own name choice."

"Choice?" Merlin asked. "What makes you think it was a choice?"

She smiled, and her intelligent eyes seemed to glint in the candle-light. "It is a cover, concealing your true self. It is not your real name, at least, not a name that you like to hear."

"I assure you," said Merlin, "it is my real name. "  _At least, in some ways._

She shook her head. "There is something you are concealing. I am determined to figure it out."

"I wish you luck," Merlin said, smiling into himself.

"Well, what then shall we call it?" interrupted Helga. "It must be a distinctive name."

"Rowena has some interesting ideas about that," Merlin said, amused when Rowena glared at him.

"What are those, Rowena?"

"Emrys is teasing me," Rowena said, in a rather proud manner. "He is being ridiculous."

"Well, we all love a bit of silliness," said Godric, laughing. "Tell us!"

Rowena shook her head. "No, it is foolish." She drained her goblet and looked around at them all, seeming desperate to change the subject. "I suggest we wait a while longer. If the name is right, it should just come to us instead of searching for it."

"It's a warty hog!" piped up Helena, giggling. "Mama saw one in a dream! It brought her here!"

Rowena seemed to flush pink and frowned at her daughter. But Helga and Godric did not laugh.

"A warty hog?" Godric asked. "That's … an unusual thing to dream about."

"Dreams usually have some significance," mused Helga. "There must have been a reason for it."

"I do not believe in the power of prophecy through dreams, Helga," said Rowena, and Merlin could tell this was a long argued point between them.

"It is real, my dear Rowena," answered Helga, looking entirely unfased.

"You should have one as a badge," said Helena, "like ones that Knights wear!"

"We already have a crest, dear," said Helga.

"You do?" Merlin asked, intrigued. "May I see it?"

Helga nodded, and pulled out a scrap of embroidery from a pouch at her waist. "It isn't the final design, but we think it will look something like this."

She passed it to Merlin who examined it curiously. It was large and detailed, and filled with colour. There were four animals on it; a black badger on a yellow background, an bronze eagle on a blue background, a silver serpent on a green background and a golden lion on a scarlet background. All four were encircling a box in the middle, which was blank.

"The school's initial, if we ever choose a name, will go in the centre," said Helga. "What do you think?"

"I like it," murmured Merlin, feeling strangely attached to it. "I imagine the four creatures represent the four of you?"

"Yes," said Godric. "Mine is the lion because they are such noble and brave creatures."

"You've never even seen one," said Rowena, rolling her eyes.

"I don't need to!" protested Godric. "All the great noble Houses have lions on their crests! It is a creature of nobility and strength! My own family have had the lion on their coat-of-arms for centuries!"

"Mine is the badger," said Helga, interrupting with a smile. "They are so industrious and also very peaceful creatures."

"Yes, but violent and dangerous beneath the surface," teased Godric. "Just like Helga."

"Salazar's must be the serpent," said Merlin. "Not surprising considering his family were Parselmouths. So that must mean the eagle is yours, Rowena."

"Correct," said Rowena.

He smiled. "Why not a raven?"

She scowled. "Ravenclaw was my husband's name. The eagle is the emblem of my mother's House. She was the one who encouraged me to read."

"You don't want to use your father's symbol?"

"No," she said shortly. "My father was not an enlightened man. After my mother's death, he was not happy with my being educated."

Merlin nodded, understanding her a little better. "And after her death, you found solace in reading and studying. The eagle for you symbolised freedom through learning."

Rowena met his eyes for a moment, and he saw some suppressed emotion in her expression. But she did not answer him.

Godric looked as if he was about to speak, but there was a knock at the door and a serving boy came in, accompanied by a couple of house-elves.

"Begging your pardon," he said. "But there's been a message from the village. Someone is sick and needs a Healer."

"I'll go," said Merlin, but Helga cut across him.

"No, you have not yet finished eating. I will go. I should spend some more time in the village in any case."

"And I shall accompany you," said Godric, standing and offering her his arm, a fond smile on his face. She took the arm and they both left, leaving Merlin alone with the two Ravenclaws. Helena smiled at him, but Rowena seemed determined to avoid his gaze.

"Why not name the school after your silly dream?" Merlin asked her. "It would be personal then. Something that is truly yours."

"I wish to be taken seriously," she replied.

He sighed. "Sometimes you take yourself  _too_  seriously."

Her eyes blazed. "This is important, not some silly childish endeavour. We must be professional if we are to attract serious people to invest in us. No one will come to a school that prides itself on silliness."

"No, but they will come to a school that prides itself on creativity."

"I am creative," she answered stiffly.

He laughed. "How can you be creative with such a narrow mind?"

"I do not have a narrow mind" objected Rowena, fiercely.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Really? And how is that Giant Squid today?"

She scowled again. "It does not exist."

"Godric had a rather close encounter with it only yesterday."

"He says he did," said Rowena. "I will not believe it until I see it."

He shook his head. "Unless it's on the page of a book, it is impossible for you. That is what I call narrow-minded."

"Books are the most liberating of all things," Rowena protested, her eyes lit up. "They free one from the mundane reality of life and offer up a whole world of new possibilities. Why should I not enjoy them?"

"Enjoy them by all means," Merlin said. "But do not rely on them."

"You and I will never agree, Emrys," said Rowena. "Books are everything. It is my only regret that my library is not as full as I would like."

He tilted his head to one side and smiled. "I have a great many books that I've collected over the years, far more than I will ever read again. Perhaps some of those will help fill the shelves?"

Rowena leaned forward like an eager child, her eyes wide and hopeful, but then she remembered herself and tried to look calm and composed. "Perhaps," she said. "It depends on what sort they are."

"Come and see," said Merlin, and he stood from the table. "I'll show you right now."

Rowena also stood, and Merlin offered her an arm, like Godric had done for Helga, but Rowena cast one scathing look at it and swept past him, holding her head proudly. He laughed softly under his breath; as he had suspected, far too proud to accept help from anybody, no matter how small.

"Come, Helena," called Rowena.

Helena sighed, and hopped off her own chair and skipped after her mother. "Can I go and play with the house-elves, mama?"

"They are here to work, Helena," said Rowena, as they moved out into the Entrance Hall, "they are not your own personal playmates."

"We don't mind Miss Helena being with us, Mistress Rowena!" squeaked a house-elf that was carrying some dirty dishes back down to the kitchens. "We is liking her. She laughs a lot and is making all of us cheerful."

Helena laughed again, and looked pleadingly at her mother, who sighed. "Very well. But take her to Scáthach if she causes any trouble."

Helena ran excitedly after the house-elves leaving Rowena alone with Merlin. He gestured for them to continue up the marble staircase.

"Helga and Godric seem very close," remarked Merlin as they walked.

"Of course," said Rowena. "They have been friends from infancy."

"I mean a little more than that," smiled Merlin. "He dotes on her every word. A man with as much pride as he does would not bow to a woman like that unless he was exceptionally fond of her. He argues with you, but not with her."

She frowned, and actually looked puzzled. "Helga and Godric?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"You haven't noticed?" Merlin asked, amused. "I thought someone as intelligent as you would have. But then, you study words, not human emotion."

She looked fierce and ready to argue, but Merlin held up a hand to stop her. "Here we are."

He pushed open the door to his chambers and moved over to bag he had brought from the village and had not yet unpacked. He opened it, revealing it's magically enhanced cavernous depths. He summoned out a good number of books. He turned to find Rowena standing in the doorway, not looking at him.

He smiled. "Won't you come in?"

"It is unseemly for a woman to enter a man's chambers alone," she said stiffly.

He laughed. "Why? What do you think will happen? Come in! Don't you want to see the books?"

He watched with amusement as she seemed to dither between propriety and intellectual curiosity. Eventually, her heart won, and she entered, heading straight to the table where he had laid the dozen or so books.

She trailed her fingers over the covers of each of them, her eyes drinking them in almost hungrily. She picked one up and flicked through it, devouring each page her eye fell on. Merlin watched as she seemed to caress each book lovingly, her expression softer and more human than he had yet seen it. It was true; she really was more at ease around books than other people. They were her friends, they were her comfort.

She examined each and every one slowly and carefully, her excitement increasing with every book she touched. He watched her with a strange feeling building in his heart that he couldn't quite explain.

Eventually, she looked up at him, her eyes shining with emotion that she didn't even attempt to hide. It was a joy to see, and Merlin felt his heart skip at the sheer happiness in her face. "But these books are a marvel!" she exclaimed. "Beautifully bound and illustrated and filled with such wondrous things! Why ever should you wish to part with them?"

"I've read them all," Merlin said quickly, still unnerved at the sudden change in her, and the way it was making him feel. "Others deserve the chance to read them."

She smiled, a genuine happy smile he had not yet seen her display. "But they are incredibly valuable. Some of them are centuries old! They could have come from the library of Camelot itself!"

Merlin smiled, knowing that they did indeed come from the library of Camelot. They had been personally collected by himself for a library that was now long gone and nothing more than a heap of rubble. He'd carried them around for years, never actually reading them, but just using them as a memento of his past. But they brought him nothing but sadness. He didn't want to be reminded of his past life like that; they should be used in the pursuit of his new destiny.

"They are yours, my Lady," he said softly, liking the way her eyes lit up as he spoke.

She gazed adoringly back at them once more. "They speak of things I have never heard of."

She fingered one entitled  _'The art of Druidic Potion-making.'_

She looked back at him curiously. "Are you a Druid, Emrys?"

He shook his head. "No, I am not."

"But it is said that the descendants of the original Druids are the only ones who are able to use even a shadow of the Old Religion," she said, frowning.

He laughed. "I do not use a shadow, Rowena. I use the real thing."

"But how is that possible?" she asked, frustrated. "The Old Religion faded when Camelot did, and all knowledge of it died out. How can you know it?"

He smiled sadly. "There are some mysteries I cannot, and will not ever reveal to you, my Lady. You must accept that."

"I cannot," she said, taking a step closer to him, causing him to be even more uncomfortable. "I told you, I will try and figure you out before the end."

"Not every mystery can be solved."

"Every one that I attempt can be," she said, staring at him. "I will know what you are hiding. How can you use the Old Religion?"

He shook his head. "I cannot tell you. Have faith in the instinct deep within you that is telling you to trust me."

She shook her head gently. "I do not trust to feelings alone."

"You must," said Merlin. "You must trust me if you want to learn this magic."

"I do trust you," she said, "even if you infuriate me. But only because Helga does, and she cannot be deceived in a person's character."

"I want you to trust me for your own sake," Merlin said, looking down at her, his eyes fixed on hers. "Trust in yourself. Don't be confined by logic."

She stepped even closer, causing Merlin's breath to hitch. She stared at him for a long time and intensely, as though trying to read his mind. Merlin couldn't move. It was if she had him under some sort of spell.

"What is your real name?" she asked. "Tell me."

And for the briefest of moments, Merlin actually considered it.

"Never," he said, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

Merlin didn't answer, and she seemed to understand. She took a step back.

"You're afraid," she said. "You are hiding from something in your past. You accused me of doing the same thing. If you can seek to understand me, then it's only fair I do the same for you."

"I would expect nothing less, my Lady," he bowed his head slightly.

After a long moment of the two of them staring at each other, she turned away. She picked up the books and turned to leave. She stopped in the doorway.

"Thank you for the books," she said, back to her usual reserved manner. And then she was gone.

Merlin stood there a little overwhelmed for a moment. Was this progress? Or was she getting one over on him?

One thing was certain; Rowena Ravenclaw was proving as difficult for him to deal with as Salazar Slytherin. But for some reason, being around her, as uncomfortable as it was, wasn't nearly as unpleasant.

Why was she affecting him like this?


	11. Realisations

 

"This place is amazing!" Merlin said, looking around with a huge grin on his face.

"I'm glad you think so," said Helga, smiling. "I've spent a lot of time and hard work on it."

Merlin could tell. He was beneath the castle, in the cavernous kitchens, and he was very pleased with what he saw. Hundreds of house-elves were scurrying here and there carrying pots and pans and piles of food, each of them looking thrilled.

"How many of them are there?"

"At the last count, one hundred and four," said Helga, smiling at the elves as they passed. Each of them gave a small bow or curtsey as they passed her; their evident love and respect for her plain on their faces. "And I hope there will be many more."

"And you know each of them personally?"

"Yes, of course," she said. "I rescued many of them myself, and the ones that friends sent to me I took the trouble of getting to know before they started work. I think it's important to know them personally. It keeps them happy, and it does the same for me."

"You're trying to rescue scared and frightened Muggle-Born children all over Britain, whilst at the same time doing the same for a race of magical creatures?" Merlin asked. "I underestimated your kindness."

She blushed slightly. "I could not leave them to burn or be abandoned. They are happy here, and when the students arrive there will be plenty of work to keep them occupied."

Merlin looked around. "Why are they making so much food? There aren't that many of us in the castle."

"They are practicing," explained Helga. "Most of them came from single-family households and are not accustomed to cooking for large amounts of people at once. The meals are not wasted however. One of the human servants takes them to the closest Muggle villages to give to orphans and the poor there. After they've been Confunded of course, so they don't wonder where it all comes from and start looking for the castle."

"Your goodness knows no bounds," said Merlin, genuinely touched by her generosity.

She simply smiled, and moved further into the kitchens. Here there were four large wooden tables that were almost the length of the room.

"These are going to be placed directly under identical tables in the Great Hall above," explained Helga, pointing to the ceiling. "One for each House. These tables will be filled with food and then spells on the tables will send them up to the students above. It will save the house-elves carrying it all up themselves. And besides," she smiled, "it will look rather splendid for the food to appear as if out of nowhere."

Merlin agreed; it would be a wondrous sight. Helga moved closer to him and examined his face.

"You know, there could be five tables."

Merlin got the point she was making. "No, only four."

"But why?" she asked. "You are going to help us with the roof and other areas. You will teach us wondrous magic. Doesn't that merit a House of your own?"

"I'm not a Founder," said Merlin. "That is your destiny."

She fixed her eyes on his and seemed to be trying to figure him out. "You have your own destiny," she said finally. "It means everything to you."

Merlin didn't say anything. No, it wasn't his destiny to become the fifth Founder. He had to remain away from the centre of attention. The moment the Old Religion returned would be his turn to come out into the open. Not before. He only hoped that time would be soon.

Helga didn't seem too disappointed with his answer though; she seemed to have accepted and anticipated it. She wandered around a little, Merlin following.

"You are very intelligent, Emrys," she said, pausing a moment. "You must have had a formal sort of education. Who taught you this magic?"

"I taught myself," Merlin answered honestly. "In the depths of fear and the darkness of hiding away in the shadows I found the magic that came to mean more to me than anything else. It was my comfort. It gave me a destiny. It was my saviour."

"And you believe you can save the world with it?" she asked, staring at him intensely.

"I don't know what I will achieve," Merlin replied, truthfully. "I … hope that this magic will help others. That the world can be a better place."

"As it was in the past," said Helga. "In Camelot."

Merlin's head snapped up and he stared at her, momentarily panicked. But she only smiled.

"You have the name of the greatest sorcerer who ever lived," she said quietly. "You must hope that one day you can rival him."

"No," said Merlin, breathing heavily. "I wish to surpass him. He let his vision crumble around him. I won't let that happen."

She stared at him for the longest of moments, seeming as though she were trying to see straight into his soul.

"The world can never be as it was," she said softly. "The world must adapt to move forwards. We cannot look backwards. Perhaps that is how you should focus your efforts?"

Merlin looked away, trying not to let her see how her words had affected him. He could not believe it. His time in Camelot had been perfect. It had to be like that again. He had a second chance. He had to make it the way it was, but better. The Old Religion would return, and the world would be in balance once more. That was the one thought that had stayed with him constantly for the last three hundred years. If he couldn't believe in that, he had nothing left. He had to make up for his past mistakes. Helga didn't understand, not truly. He'd let the world fall into this pit, he had to be the one to bring it out again.

He thought back to his conversation with Rowena. He had told her to embrace her own past, yet still he shied away from his own. True, the world would never be like it had been in Camelot, he would never again find happiness, but the Old Religion  _would_  return, and he would make sure the world would be better than it was, free of the mistakes he had made so long ago. This school was the answer.

Helga seemed to realise she had not convinced him, but she did not try to continue the conversation. Instead, she headed forwards and gently guided him to another part of the kitchens.

"Come, there are some recipes here of my own design that I hope to be able to serve to the students. I would like your opinion before I poison them all."

He did not object, and he went with her and spent the rest of the morning with her tasting dishes and offering his opinion. They laughed, and he found himself thoroughly enjoying himself. But always that shadow was hanging over him. This castle was the solution to his centuries of waiting. It was how he and the world could find peace. He felt that burden almost crushing him.

Eventually, they left the kitchens and took a stroll around the castle, inspecting the construction work that was still ongoing. Helga smiled at every workman she passed and they all blushed and grinned back. She was loved by all.

"Why did you come here?" Merlin asked her, as they watched. "Is it purely out of the goodness of your heart? Have you no ulterior motive?"

She laughed gently. "That is for yourself to decide. Rowena wishes to prove herself to a world that kept her trapped in silence, Godric wishes to win great renown, Salazar is always driven with ambition, but beneath that they all wish most of all to end the suffering of the world. Myself? I am here to bring as much happiness and joy to others as I can, because that is what gives me pleasure above all. Is that selfish of me?"

Merlin smiled at her. "I doubt anyone could accuse you of being selfish."

* * *

 

"Why don't you just ask me for help?"

"I do not need help."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"This is getting childish."

"Yes, it is, so why won't you just admit it and get it over with?"

Rowena glared at him over the book she was attempting to read in the library. "I need no help."

Merlin chuckled, enjoying himself. "These books are very old, and parts of them are written in ancient languages that you cannot possibly understand."

"I can read them!"

"No, you can't," he insisted. "I can see it in your face. So why won't you just end your frustration and ask me? There is no shame in being ignorant."

"Yes there is," she said, furiously. "I have spent many years studying so as to rid myself of my childhood ignorance, and I rejoice in my success."

" _Partial_  success," Merlin reminded her. "You're still young, there's still a lot for you to learn. The fact that you have trouble deciphering these languages is not something to be ashamed of. Let me help you. I thought you craved learning?"

"I do!" she objected. "But-"

"Not from me," said Merlin, smiling as he understood. "You don't want to appear weak in front of me."

"You give yourself far too much credit," she scoffed. "I do not like appearing weak in front of  _anyone._ "

"You cannot consider ignorance a weakness," Merlin said. "You're about to open a school, ignorance will be all around you. No one can know everything. Let me teach you."

"You will soon be teaching me Old Magic," she said, focusing once more on the words in front of her. "There is no time for anything else."

"Or is it just that your pride won't allow you to?" he asked playfully. "We have plenty of time; Salazar has not yet come around. Until that time, let me teach you."

"I can read and write several languages!" she objected. "I do not need to be taught. I can learn it for myself. Ancient Runes cannot possibly be beyond me after all that I have learned before."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How many languages do  _you_  know?"

Merlin laughed softly. "I have lost count. English of course, plus several older variants that have fallen out of use, Latin, Greek, a couple of Celtic tongues, Ancient Runes, some of the Norse languages ... more than I'll ever need."

She paused a moment, reluctantly impressed. "And how did you learn all these? You must have studied a great deal."

Merlin laughed. "Not as much as I should have. But picking up languages comes pretty easily when you've been doing it as long as I have."

"You cannot be much older than I am," said Rowena, leaning in slightly, her head tilted to one side, "yet you always speak of having lived many years."

Merlin was silent, and a small smile came to her lips. "Ah, but you are much older than you seem. Appearances are deceiving. How do you keep such a youthful appearance? How old are you?"

Merlin didn't say anything for a full minute. "Too old," he said finally, and did not elaborate. Rowena watched him for a few moments but said nothing further, going back to her books, the ones Merlin had given her the day before.

He thought on her question for the longest time. How old was he? He knew he had been born in the seventh century, which made him approximately three hundred years old. But calendars had been different in those days; he didn't even know in which year he had been born. He tried to count it all up, but found himself at a loss. He had lost track many, many years ago. And it didn't matter, he decided. He was old, far older than he ever should have been. Just how much longer would the Old Religion keep mercilessly prolonging his life like this?

He looked youthful, true enough, but he had never aged, at least in body. He felt his age acutely, particularly in the darkest moments when every year rested heavily on him. He felt weary, weary of life itself.

He and Rowena were silent for a long time. She was bent over the books, her nose almost to the page, trying desperately to decipher them. Merlin watched her, amused by her attempts. Every so often, a gleam of triumph would come to her eyes and she would grin briefly as she recognised a word or phrase, but then she'd fall into melancholy once more when she could go no further. She was still determined to figure it out on her own.

He let his attention drift away, unnerved by how much he enjoyed just sitting watching her. He stood up and wandered the room, running his fingers along the mainly empty bookshelves. What would this room be like in a hundred years, two hundred? What stories would there be in here? How much learning and knowledge? A room of wonders. A gift of education to everyone who deserved it.

He found himself wandering over to the window. It was dark outside, and the grounds were shrouded in shadow. There was no moon.

He stared unseeing for quite some time, hearing Rowena's frustrated sighs behind him.

Eventually however, something caught his eye. There was a figure moving out into the grounds, a tiny pinprick of light visible from what must be a wand. The figure moved out into the middle of the great lawns and paused, fumbling around with something at his feet.

"Rowena," Merlin called, and a second later she was at his side, looking outside with him.

"What is it?"

"There is someone out there."

"At this time of night? Whoever could it be?" she was frowning deeply, and glanced towards the door. "Perhaps I should-"

"No," Merlin said, grabbing hold of her elbow as she attempted to head towards the door. She whirled around and looked at where he was holding her with barely concealed indignation. He let go immediately, unnerved himself at their sudden proximity. But he soon forgot it. "Wait," he urged her, "it may be nothing."

She was reluctant, but she stayed and moved closer to the window, beside Merlin. Together they looked down into the grounds and watched the figure with the wandlight. Before long, great flames had grown up in the grounds, sending flickering light over the grass and silhouetting the mysterious figure.

Rowena jumped. "He has set fire to the grounds!" she exclaimed angrily. Again, she tried to leave, but again, Merlin stopped her by seizing hold. This time he did not let go.

"Wait," he said again.

"He is damaging the grounds!" she said, not protesting this time at his hold. "I must stop him."

"No," said Merlin patiently. "I think I know who it is. Give me a moment. Trust me."

Rowena stared at him as though he was insane for a few moments, vainly trying to struggle away from him. She looked incredulous, but slowly, she nodded.

Merlin sighed with relief and turned back to look outside, still keeping hold of her, knowing she may bolt. He fixed his eyes on the flames down below intently, following the little figure whose form was thrown into the light every so often. The flames grew larger and larger. A few house-elves ran out from the castle doors carrying what looked like buckets of water, but they were stopped before they got within ten feet of the flames. The figure sent them back.

Rowena frowned at this. "The house-elves are not allowed to take orders from those who are not their masters. Why would they obey him?"

"Because he is their master," Merlin said softly. "It is Lord Salazar."

Rowena gasped and peered down at the figure. "But what is he doing? How do you know?"

Merlin sighed and leaned back on the wall next to the window. "He is working on something. A way to stop people from being burned. Some sort of spell or potion that will protect them."

Rowena stared. At first, her expression was one of scepticism, then of curiosity, and then of wonder. "Is such a thing possible?"

"Of course," said Merlin. "But it is his reasons for doing it that I question."

"Why?" she asked him, frowning. "Surely this is a good thing?"

He shrugged. "Of course, if it can save people from being killed. But it is not a solution to the world's problems. He had much better focus on the school than this. That's the way to solve this. Focus on the cause, rather than the symptoms. He cannot move forwards, he is caught up in his past. That cannot be healthy."

She stood watching him for a very long time. Eventually she laughed softly. "You are a riddle, Emrys."

"Undoubtedly," he answered, realising just how many times she had said the same thing to him now, 'but why in particular this time?"

She fixed him with a stony glance. "You accuse Salazar of being caught in his past and unable to move forwards with his life, when you do the exact same thing."

Merlin frowned, thinking of his conversation with Helga, and realising how right she was. "What do you mean?"

"I have said it before; you are running from something," Rowena said, stepping a little closer. "I don't know what, but you are. The only reason you are at this castle is because of something that happened in your past, something that haunts you. You do not realise that what ails Salazar is the very same thing that ails you."

Merlin could not answer. He could only stare at her, and try control himself as the truth of her words hit him. He was running. He had been for such a long time. He couldn't face what had happened back then because it had so nearly destroyed him. Was he a hypocrite?

He turned back to the window sadly and kept watching Slytherin, feeling her intense gaze piercing him.

"There is one fundamental difference," Merlin said heavily, avoiding her gaze. "You can be saved, as can Lord Salazar. But me? I'm a hopeless case. I can never be happy again. I can only strive to make others so. To make up for the failures of my past. I'm cursed to do this. It is my punishment. And I would not wish it on anyone else."

He kept looking straight ahead, ignoring her, furious with himself for being so open. It was true however, he was doomed to this miserable existence to make others happy and rectify his mistakes. That was all he lived for. That was the only reason he had never been granted the peace of death.

Rowena took a step closer and seemed to be trying to say something to him, but was interrupted by agonised yelling from the grounds. The flames seemed to grow ever larger and the figure in front was crouched on the ground, seemingly in pain.

Merlin sighed. "He was unsuccessful."

Rowena frowned. "Perhaps if I-"

"No," Merlin said to her. "He must do this for himself. Perhaps this is the only way he can get past this."

He turned to leave then, feeling a heaviness inside of him he could not get rid of. He was about to leave when Rowena called out.

"And what must you do, Emrys?" she asked, softly. "What must you do to forget your past and move on?"

He stopped in the doorway. He turned back.

"I can do nothing," he said sadly. "My past will always be with me, and I doubt I shall ever recover. But I can help the rest of you do what I cannot. Perhaps then I can forgive myself."

And with that, he turned and left the room.

* * *

 

The next morning, he found himself wandering down to the village, his heart still heavy. He needed some time to think.

He strolled through the gates, noting that he was being received with much more respect than usual; everyone now knew he had special favour with the Founders. He wasn't sure he liked this much attention.

He found himself back at Elred and Hilda's house. He was delighted to find they had taken on a new lodger, a young English boy from the south who had lost his parents to Muggles. He was going to help Elred set up his new business in the village.

"I hope you don't mind," said Hilda to Merlin as he helped her clear away the remains of the midday meal they had shared together. She was gesturing out the window to where Elred, and the boy, Tomin, were clearing space in front of the house for the stalls Elred was going to set up for his drapery business. Elred had his wand out, but the boy, who did not have one, was working by hand, but nevertheless looked happy; just pleased to be being useful. "You will always be welcome to visit."

"Of course I don't mind," said Merlin, laughing. "I think it is great you are taking in someone who needs a home."

Hilda nodded, and watched the boy fondly. "Elred is very fond of him. He reminds him of our own son. He was taken by a fever many years ago. It will be nice to have a child around the house again."

"What happened to the boy's parents?" Merlin asked, dreading the answer.

Hilda sighed. "He will not tell us. He turned up here a few days ago, skinny and in a right state. He walked the entire way, not even sure he was going the right direction. He risked a lot to come here. So far he hasn't said much. His parents are dead, that is all I know. Hopefully he will open up to us in time. If all goes to plan, he'll be able to attend the school, and perhaps he will find peace with himself."

Merlin nodded, knowing that it may indeed take a long, long time. Like most of the children in the village, this boy was also haunted by his past. Now, more than ever, he was glad he had decided to help with the school.

Merlin turned away from the window, suddenly hit with a melancholy he could not explain. The boy seemed to strike a nerve with him. Hilda looked concerned.

"What is wrong?"

Merlin shook his head and attempted to smile. "Nothing."

Hilda was not fooled. She marched him over to a chair by the table and sat him down, pulling up a chair beside him.

"Are you not happy at the castle?" Hilda asked searching his face. "Is that it?"

Merlin shook his head. "The Founders are friendly enough. And I look forward to the work I can do with them."

"But?" Hilda asked, reading between the lines.

He sighed and held his head in his hands. "It's just harder than I thought."

She clucked in sympathy. "Are they working you too hard?"

"No," said Merlin, "in fact, until I can get Lord Salazar to like me, I don't even have much work to do."

"Then what is it?"

He was silent for a moment, looking down at his hands. "I … "he began, uncertain about how to proceed. "I don't usually involve myself in … things. I don't get close to people. I … there are things in my past that I would rather forget, but up in that castle, they keep resurfacing until they are all I can think about. I hadn't realised just how strong these doubts and fears were until I was there. I wasn't prepared for just how much of my past would return to haunt me. Dealing with it is harder than I thought."

Hilda didn't say anything for a long while. Eventually, she reached out and took his hand in hers. "You can do this," she said firmly. "I know it."

"How?" he asked, smiling. "You barely know me."

"I know enough," she said, a beady look in her eye. "There's something … different about you. I don't know what it is, but I know that it is something special. You have a great secret, true, but you're stronger than you know," she smiled at him, her eyes twinkling. "You will do great things up at that castle. Ever since you arrived in this village you've done nothing but help others. And I know that you will continue to do that for a long time."

Merlin smiled at her and squeezed her hand back, grateful for her company. At that moment, the door burst open and Elred and Tomin came sprinting in, laughing and blabbering about something that had happened outside, and Merlin and Hilda were prevented from talking further.

Merlin didn't mind however. He was glad to see them happy. It was a happiness he would never know. He would never have a family, he would always outlive them. He worried slightly he was growing too close to these people, that it would only make it harder when he moved on.

But, he reminded himself, looking out the window and in the direction of the castle, he may not need to. If these Founders were the people who were to return the Old Religion to the world, maybe his time would come, and he would be allowed to grow old and die like the others.

He may not be able to forgive his past, but Hilda was right. He could do many good things. He could make up for it, and maybe, just maybe, at the end of it, he'd get the peace he longed for. There was no point in him wallowing away in self-pity. Others needed his help more. They were good, and innocent. The deserved help, he deserved none. He may be doomed to misery in the end, but he'd be damned if he'd let everyone else be miserable too.


	12. Unwelcome Visitors

 

It was now several weeks since Merlin had arrived at the castle, and his new resolve to focus on helping others rather than on his own past was paying off, and he found he was greatly enjoying himself. His friendship with Helga and Godric grew day by day and he found himself laughing and joking with them in ways he had not done since his days in Camelot. He accompanied them around the school, inspecting the building work with them and giving tips and advice, always admiring their ingenuity and magical ability. He helped them with some of the logistics of how to run the school, how to go about teaching their students, and what to teach them, having had some experience of this in his youth when taking on apprentices. He was far more widely travelled than any of them, and they asked his advice on how best to get children from all backgrounds across Britain to come to the castle.

Merlin suggested offering each child the opportunity to come at the age of eleven, to be instructed until their late teens, thus teaching them at an early age of the values the school would possess without tearing them away from their families before they could handle it. They would live at the castle all year, save for holidays at Yuletide and a longer one in the summer for them to still connect with their home life and for the peasant children to assist their parents during harvest time.

"What of the poorer children?" Helga had asked. "Many of them cannot even read. How are we to teach them?"

Merlin had thought long and hard on this subject. "Bring them to the castle before the teaching begins," he had suggested, "during the break in the summer. There they can learn to read before starting. Also, the ones who cannot speak English can have a chance to do so, so that all lessons can be in the same language. Teaching Celtic children in different classrooms from Anglo-Saxon ones would only make them divided and distrustful of each other."

They had embraced his advice whole-heartedly, and seemed enthusiastic about implementing it. He listened for many hours about their plans for the school and approved of most of them. Except one.

"Why can't we have stocks in the grounds?" Godric objected. "We have to maintain discipline!"

"It's an awful cruel punishment," Merlin said, remembering only too well the amount of times he'd had to endure it in the past. "You cannot put children through that."

"Then they will behave themselves," said Godric, firmly. "I don't intend to use it regularly; it will just be there for effect."

"This place is supposed to make them feel safe! Not afraid."

"But they cannot get complacent," Godric had said. "I will not change my mind."

And it seemed he would not. Godric's mind was made up. Rowena also approved of his plan, and Helga, although uncomfortable with it, recognised that Godric was in charge of discipline in the castle. But he knew that she argued with him about it as much as Merlin did.

The castle was nearing completion, with only the tallest towers and some walls still to built on the outside, with furnishings and decorations needed inside. It would be ready in a matter of months. Yet, the Great Hall still had no roof.

Godric had tried to just get a normal roof put on, and start a yearly tradition of renewing spells on the roof to keep it strong in years to come, but Helga had overruled him. She had a plan to make a roof that would not need constant repair.

Godric and the others were still sceptical of her idea of a 'roof of clouds' but Merlin helped her where he could in drawing up spells for it. He could have done one on his own of course, but he left it to her. Every spell she came up with got better and better; she was determined for perfection.

But, like the first spell they had come up with together, it would need all four of the Founders to complete it, and by using Old Magic. But Salazar Slytherin was still unwilling to even discuss the matter.

Every night now, Merlin saw him out in the grounds experimenting with fire. He did not interfere, but just watched in silence. At first, Slytherin kept trying with variations of potions, drinking them, and then placing a part of his body into the flames, with awful results. Eventually, he seemed to take Merlin's original advice on board, however reluctantly, and tried using spells instead.

He had a little more success this way. With spells, the flames would take about thirty seconds to hurt him, but the protection never lasted longer than that. It was not uncommon to see Slytherin storming about the castle, bandages permanently wrapped around his hands from the burns there. Merlin had offered to heal them, but he only got a look of disgust in return. Merlin was still concerned for him, but was still resolved to let him get through this on his own.

Helga however was not, and had threatened him with disembowelment if he put one more body part into the flames. He did however, and Helga stopped treating his injuries, hoping that would settle him, but he only went down to the village to the new Healer that had settled there.

Merlin often followed him down to the village surreptitiously, wondering constantly how he was to sway this proud and tortured man. But no flash of brilliance came to him. He bided his time, trusting to the Old Religion that the perfect opportunity would come.

He took these trips to the village to call on Hilda and Elred who had now set up their own drapers business. They made a good amount of money from it; many of the people who arrived in the village were refugees and in need of new wardrobes, so they were never short of customers. Tomin, the boy they had taken in still didn't say much, especially to Merlin, who he almost seemed to fear, but he had grown especially attached to Elred, and followed him everywhere. He was also growing a good deal fatter on Hilda's excellent cooking, which had improved now she had more money to buy better ingredients. They were very happy.

Merlin spent a good deal of time at the inn as well, listening in to conversations, hearing what they said about the school. They were all excited, that much was plain. The new ones that arrived were always sceptical, thinking that it was a project just too large, but soon they too were infected by the excitement that seemed to plague the village. He often heard his own name in these discussions, much to his discomfort. They compared the Founders to himself, saying they were following in his footsteps and bringing peace back to the world. It made him both uncomfortable and amused to hear these words. He had certainly never been as perfect as these people said he had, in actual fact, he believed the Founders may actually achieve more than he ever had.

The visits at the inn were not solely spent listening in however. He was there to learn. He had identified all the various languages that were spoken there and had resolved to learn as many as he could. The barmaid who previously had just been someone he'd known by sight now became one of his friends. Her name was Nessa, and he had discovered she spoke the same native tongue as did Rowena Ravenclaw and most of the others in the village. So, he began to learn it.

It was not particularly difficult; he had been trying to learn it for some time before, but all the different dialects had confused him. But now he had one sole teacher, he began to fare a little better. Nessa was very patient, and taught him well, but it progressed slowly at first since she did not speak much English, and even less Latin. Lessons at first were spent mainly pointing at various things around the tavern and swapping their respective words for them. He doubted however that words like ale, drunk man and burp, would help him in an intellectual discussion with Rowena.

But, he got better with time. He wanted to perfect it before he spoke to Rowena in the language; he knew how much intelligence impressed her, and he wanted to see the look on her face when she realised how quickly he had learned it.

Why he wanted to impress her so badly, he wasn't sure. But she had not yet learned how to fluently read the books he had given to her, and he was amused at the thought of her indignation when she learned he had mastered a language before she did. Perhaps then she would realise the futility of learning on one's own and swallow her pride.

Winter was slowly turning into spring, and Helena Ravenclaw was often to be seen playing in the grounds, chasing ravens, rabbits, house-elves, or any other small thing that she could find. She was always under the strictest supervision from either her mother or her formidable nanny, Scáthach, who was built like a battle-horse and as cold as iron.

When he wasn't with the Founders, Merlin liked to spend time in the grounds, and often talked with Helena there, pointing out the names of various plants and animals. She was as eager to learn as her mother. Scáthach did not approve of him, he knew, but she made no move to stop him since Helena so obviously enjoyed his company.

He enjoyed hers also, feeling it refreshing to spend time with one so innocent and carefree. Scáthach however was constantly glaring at him. She never spoke to him, as Rowena had promised weeks earlier, but she was always talking to Helena in their native tongue.

"Come away from there!" she called, as Helena leaned over the lake to see a fish Merlin had pointed out to her. "You'll-" and then said a word Merlin did not know but presumed must mean 'drown' or 'fall.'

Helena always scowled when Scáthach interrupted her fun, but Scáthach was firm. After Helena had indeed fallen in the lake one early spring afternoon, Scáthach began to march her up to the castle lecturing her about the dangers of the lake while Merlin trailed behind, silently laughing.

"Don't listen to that man! He is no good, do you hear? Listen to me. Don't make that face, child! I know what is best! That man is trouble!"

Merlin entered the castle behind them, still amused at the fact Scáthach had no idea he could now understand her. He stopped however when he saw a crowd of people standing in the Entrance Hall he had never seen before.

"Uncle Godric!" Helena cried, recognising the one man in all that crowd that was supposed to be here. "I fell in the lake!"

"Ah, and did you see the Giant Squid?" Godric asked enthusiastically, but it was obvious he was faking his enthusiasm, since the moment before he had been talking to the wizards before him with a grave look on his face.

"No," said Helena in a disappointed tone. "I wish I had."

Scáthach, who had been huffing silently behind her, now grabbed hold and marched her up the stairs to get changed. "A monster in the lake! These people are mad!"

 _So she does understand English!_ Merlin thought to himself, a little indignant.  _She just refuses to use it in order to be difficult._

But he had no time to linger on this. Godric was once again looking grave. He was surrounded by about a dozen men in dark robes with severe looks on their faces. Merlin immediately felt a tingling along his spine. He did not like them.

Godric was obviously heavily involved with these men, so Merlin thought it best to leave him to it, but Godric called out to him before he could sneak away.

"Emrys!"

Merlin turned, and reluctantly went towards the group of men, hairs standing up on his neck. He always trusted his instincts, and the instincts were telling him at this moment that these men were up to no good. He found himself under intense scrutiny from these men as he drew closer, their upper lips curved upwards as the noticed how muddy he was from playing outside with Helena. He stared back at them proudly. He wasn't about to be intimidated.

Godric looked equally as determined to not look nervous, though Merlin could tell he was. Godric may be able to leap into a lake unafraid to wrestle with a Giant Squid, but Merlin knew that in a battle of wits, Godric was not at all at ease.

"Emrys," he said, as Merlin approached. "I would like to introduce these men to you. They are from the Wizards' Council."

Immediately, things began to fall into place. Merlin's dislike increased.

"I am Garulf," said the obvious leader, looking Merlin up and down with obvious displeasure. "I have been appointed the overseer for this … project."

"Overseer?" Merlin asked. "I thought the Wizards' Council had no interest in the school?"

"That remains to be seen," said Garulf, dismissively. He turned to the other men, introducing them. "This is Saret, Walden, Harold, Eorl, Halef, Morloft, Cartac, Benor, Cadvan, Hadvar and Merlin."

Merlin jumped and almost burst out laughing at this last one.  _Merlin?_

He regained his composure however. "Your name is Merlin?" he asked, barely managing to not laugh at the man's grim and unpleasant expression. "We have something in common then."

"Do we?" the other Merlin asked, bored. "And what is that?"

Merlin bit his tongue to stop from laughing. "Emrys, my name, it's a name that was attributed to the original Merlin."

"Fascinating," the other Merlin said, looking anything but interested. Merlin felt his composure breaking.

Thankfully, the leader, Garulf, stepped in before Merlin could laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Emrys? Is that your name?" he asked.

"Evidently," Merlin said, feeling his joviality evaporate instantly. He managed a tiny, but civil bow.

"And no surname?"

"No, just Emrys."

"I see," said the man, an eyebrow raised. "So you are not of the nobility?"

Merlin's dislike of the man increased. "No, I am not."

"Emrys is a respected physician," intervened Godric, his eyes flashing dangerously, "and educated to boot. You will not find him wanting in intelligence."

"No," said the man to his comrades, in perfect Latin, "just wanting in good breeding." His friends laughed, and Merlin felt his temper rise.

"As I find you wanting in good manners," he replied to Garulf in equally perfect Latin. "But why don't we just get down to the matter of why you have come?"

Merlin enjoyed the look of amazement on the wizards' features and their uncomfortable glances to Garulf. Godric looked triumphant.

"Very well," said Garulf, back to English, practically glaring at Merlin. "We have come about the school. Are you one of these … Founders?"

"No," replied Merlin. "Just a friend who is assisting."

Garulf raised an eyebrow. "So you do not have authority?"

"I say he does," said Godric, stepping forwards. "He may not be a Founder in name, but he assists us in every aspect of the school. I would have him in these discussions."

"Very well," said Garulf, sounding bored. "Now where are the others?"

"Salazar is in the dungeons," replied Godric, "I will go and fetch him for this meeting, but Helga and Rowena are in the village and will not return for several hours. We shall have to do this without them."

Garulf's eyes went wider. "So it is true what I have heard? That two of the Founders are women? And non-English also? Interesting."

"They are Founders of this school," growled Godric., "and shall be treated with respect."

Garulf did not look convinced. "Where can we meet?" he drawled, looking around the incredible room seemingly unimpressed with its beauty.

"I will show you," Godric said, his face red with suppressed anger, leading them towards the antechamber where they had all been eating as of late.

"I will go and get Lord Salazar," said Merlin, eager to be out of their company, even if for a few moments.

He hurried off across the Entrance Hall and down the steps to the dungeons, barely suppressing his intense dislike of these people. They epitomised the reason Merlin hated the Wizards' Council.

They had first sprung up after Camelot's downfall, claiming to be descendants of the council Merlin had kept in Camelot. They quickly appointed themselves leaders of all magical peoples in the kingdom, and as kingdoms rose and fell, they quickly expanded and now controlled most of the southern half of Britain. They claimed that they helped those who were more unfortunate than themselves, that they had the good of the common people at heart, but this was a front. All they cared about was the richer members of society. They were the only ones that the Wizards' Council cared about keeping safe from Muggles; the rest could burn for all they cared.

Merlin had tried to join them once, to try and root out the corruption and strife within their ranks, but the leader had told him he 'did not embody the qualities of the great Merlin that the Wizards' Council sought to represent'. That alone, as well as being mildly amusing, had told him how wrong and self-serving they were. They didn't care about magical peoples, or represent his own values. In fact, most magical people in Britain did not even known who their supposed rulers were, so little did the Wizards' Council involve itself in any situation it deemed to be beneath them.

He hurried down the dark corridors and threw open Slytherin's door as soon as he got to it. Slytherin, who was as usual sitting at his desk scowled at the interruption, then glared when he saw who it was.

"How dare you-"

"No time for that," interrupted Merlin, moving further into the room. "There are men from the Wizards' Council here."

Immediately, Slytherin seemed to forget his determination to dislike Merlin, and leapt to his feet looking worried.

"The Wizards' Council? Are you sure? What could they want?"

"I don't know," said Merlin. "But it isn't good news. They don't look happy."

"They never do," said Slytherin grimly, quickly moving out from behind his desk and moving past Merlin into the corridor where they both made their way to the antechamber Godric had led the men to.

As they entered, the twelve members of the Council looked up and surveyed the new arrival. Slytherin stared coldly back.

"Ah, Lord Salazar," said Garulf, "you are one of these Founders? And there was I thinking you had more sense than this. But I suppose the recent losses you have suffered can drive a man to insane deeds."

Slytherin's jaw tightened and he seemed to be glaring daggers at the man, but he kept his cool, unlike Godric who looked ready to explode.

"I assure you, it is of no insanity," Slytherin said, every word sounding forced. "Taking a place on the Wizards' Council seems like the greater stupidity to me, Garulf. I thought you had no mind for politics?"

Garulf shrugged. "Politics is easy. We make laws, people follow them. Everyone is happy."

"Not all," said Merlin in a low, angry tone. He remembered all too well the previous century when the Wizards' Council had issued a law that no wizard was allowed to save the life of a Muggle falsely accused of witchcraft. It had led to so many innocent deaths.

Garulf ignored this however, and gestured for the both of them to sit. They did so, both glaring at the gathered members of the Council. They waited patiently as Garulf pulled a couple of scrolls from his sleeves.

"I had meant to deliver these to you before now," he said, sounding rather bored. "But this castle is most difficult to find."

"Thank you," said Godric. "It was meant to be."

Garulf ignored him. "These are edicts from the Wizards' Council. Read them."

He handed one scroll to Godric and the other to Salazar, who both read through the scrolls quickly, their faces immediately turning to rage and fury.

"What?" roared Godric, leaping to his feet. "The Wizards' Council  _forbids_  this school to open?"

"Have you lost all sense of reason?" Slytherin demanded, also leaping to his feet. "You have no right!"

Merlin felt his own indignation and anger ignite, but he remained calm. He would watch, and observe.

"We have every right," said Garulf, looking almost pleased at their reactions. "The Wizards' Council is your governing body."

"You have no jurisdiction here," said Godric. "We are in Alba. Your influence does not extend to this land."

"Not yet," said Garulf, "but that may change in the future. These Scottish wizards seem eager for some organisation of their own, and we are inclined to give it to them. We need to unify  _all_ the inhabitants of Britain, not just the English-speaking ones."

"I thought you considered non-English speakers scum?" asked Godric, shaking with anger.

"That is irrelevant," dismissed Garulf. "In any case, you wish to teach English children, and we cannot allow that."

"You wish to deny education to children that need it?" asked Slytherin incredulously. "And still you consider yourself a strong and caring government."

"There are no children that need teaching," said Garulf with a small patronising smile.

Godric laughed. "Are you blind, Garulf? There are hundreds!"

"No," said Garulf, still smiling. "Children are adequately taught at home, by their parents. There is no need for a school."

"And what of those who have Muggles for parents?" Godric demanded. "The children who are afraid of their own abilities? They need our help!"

"No," said one of the others, a leer on his face. "They need to be taught their place. They have no position in our society. It would be a cruelty to them to try and fit them in with our way of life. Far better for them to stick with their own communities."

"And the ones who are feared, ridiculed and attacked?" Salazar asked, trembling with emotion. "Are they to be abandoned?"

"It is not the fault of the Wizards' Council that Muggles cannot be trusted to not kill their own children when they discover their magic," said the second man.

"No, but it is your duty to protect them," said Godric. "The duty of the Wizards' Council is to protect the magical people of Britain, or have you forgotten that?"

"Muggle-Borns are not magical," said the second man. "They are merely freaks of nature. They shouldn't even exist."

Godric screamed with frustration. "You disgust me!" he roared at the second man. "It is people like you that keep hatred alive! That is why we need this school, to teach tolerance and respect!"

"Of Muggles?" Garulf asked, sceptically. "Muggles are evil. We should teach our children to stay away from them, not play with them and their offspring."

Godric was shaking with rage. "Children need to be taught to use magic properly," he said. "What about those Muggle-Born children? They cannot use their magic properly; there is no one to teach them! Think of it this way: they lose control and harm others, and then expose us all to hatred! Wouldn't you rather they were taught to control their magic?"

"They should learn to control their own magic!" said Garulf. "Being burned at the stake is surely a motivation for self-teaching, is it not? It is not our fault they are too stupid to know when to use magic, and when not to. Don't you know the stories of Merlin? He taught himself magic, why can't these children do likewise?"

At this, Merlin stood up, unable to watch any longer, unable to have this despicable man use his name and reputation in such a way.

"The world is different," Merlin said, shaking with anger. "To live peacefully in this world, children must be taught about respect and tolerance, it is the only way to end the violence." Then he paused a moment, a new idea striking him. "But that is not what you want, is it? You  _want_  the killing to continue. Why? Because it suits you, it keeps you in power, it keeps you in silken robes and nice warm castles. You sicken me."

Garulf raised an eyebrow, not in the least bothered. "Think what you will. It makes little difference."

He stood to leave, and the others, who had remained silent, stood with him. He turned back to the three men. "This school will never work," he said. "There cannot be tolerance. Society will crumble, there must always be the strong and the weak. I for one would never send a child of mine to a school that admits  _everybody_ , regardless of race, blood status or social position. There needs to be a balance in the world."

Godric looked even more furious now, if that was possible. With a flourish, he withdrew the new goblin made sword from its sheath at his hip and brandished it at Garulf.

"Get out of my castle."

Garulf looked down at the weapon, a small chuckle on his lips. "A Muggle weapon?" he asked condescendingly. "You really are turning into one of them."

He moved over to the door, the other eleven men following in his shadow. "This is an order from the Wizards' Council, not a request. You refused to compromise by refusing admission to Muggle-Borns and others of unworthy status. Close down your operations at this school by midsummer or you shall face the consequences." He looked to Salazar here, his eyebrow raised once more. "I would have thought you at least would be on our side, Salazar. After a loss like yours, wouldn't you also want to see Muggle-Born children kept away?"

Slytherin's face contorted in fury. "On the contrary," he said. "It has only increased my desire to end the suffering and hatred between our two peoples. Killing Muggles is not the answer, teaching their children is."

Merlin glanced to him in surprise, noticing the change in the man before him. Did this mean he had finally stopped hating all Muggles for what they had done? Was it possible?

Garulf laughed softly. "If you can stand the stench, that is. I have heard that the magical children of Muggles have blood composed solely of mud. Fitting don't you think?"

"LEAVE!" roared Godric, brandishing his sword at them once more.

They left, leaving Godric, Slytherin and Merlin in the room, each silently fuming.

They had demanded the school be closed. How on earth could they be stopped?


	13. A  Proposal

"What are we to do?" said Helga, wringing her hands as she paced up and down before the fire. "I did not care when the Wizards' Council refused their assistance; we can get on perfectly well without them. But for them to actually  _forbid us …_ "

An angry glint came into her eye. "If only I had been there, I would have made sure they did not leave unscathed."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "I thought the Hufflepuff philosophy was that violence was silly and wrong?"

Helga smiled, an uncharacteristic dangerous smile. "Usually yes, but I have no reservations about using it against scum such as this."

"What can they actually do?" asked Rowena. "We are in a different land altogether. They cannot harm us here can they?"

"They spoke of a future alliance with the ruling wizards in Alba," said Slytherin heavily. "They will make it difficult for us."

"Then why don't we try to appeal to them directly?" asked Godric. "Perhaps they would be more willing for this school to open than the Wizards' Council are. After all, Rowena is from this land."

Slytherin rolled his eyes. "Because,  _Godric,_  there will be no friendly alliance. What the Council representatives meant was, they were either going to intimidate these wizards until they do what they want, or they were going to bribe them. There can be no compromise with these Alba wizards. They shall be entirely under the control of the Council."

There was silence for a moment. The five of them were gathered in Godric's personal chambers, high in one of the towers, one of the few that was completed. It was a warm and cosy room, with bright red furnishings and a roaring fire, but still, there was an icy chill in the air.

"If we open anyway, as I want to," said Helga, "what will they do? What did they mean by 'consequences'? Would they attack us?"

"Let them try!" Godric roared, leaping from his chair and grasping his sword. "This castle is strong. Let them try a siege if they want; I will not fail to defend this castle!"

"Sit down, Godric, before your head gets any bigger and you topple into the fire," said Slytherin in annoyance. "We needs brains to sort this out, not brawn." He paused a moment. "They would not attack us, but they could prevent students from getting here. Imprison the families of all those even considering sending their children here. No, we must come up with another way."

"But how?" Rowena asked, looking incredibly thoughtful. "By what possible means could we induce them into changing their minds?"

"We cannot," said Merlin speaking for the first time. They all lifted their heads to look at him. "We cannot change their minds."

Rowena frowned. "You would have us give in?"

Merlin paused a moment. "It's true; if you consent to only teach certain students  _they_  deem worthy, then at least the school would open, at least some children would be taught. It's only a question of whether you're prepared to accept these conditions. Is teaching only a select few children better than teaching none at all?"

They were silent for a moment.

"No," said Helga finally, and firmly. "I will not consent to open the school only to a select few the Wizards' Council deems worthy. The school will be open to all, or none. To give in would be abhorrent."

"Good," smiled Merlin. "I wasn't suggesting it. I just needed to know how serious you all were."

Slytherin scowled at him. "Of course we are serious. Do you have a suggestion or don't you?"

"Compromise is the only way," said Merlin, thinking hard, "but not in the way the Wizards' Council wants."

"Then what?" asked Godric. "How can we do this? You said we would not give in, but you also said their minds would not be changed. How can we do this?"

"We need to offer them a middle-ground," said Merlin, looking around at them all. "Something that will appease them, but also will not sacrifice the values you keep."

"Such a thing is impossible," said Rowena. "They will give in to no one. They cannot be reasoned with."

"Only because you have not tried," said Merlin, staring at her. "There must be something. There always is."

"And how do you suggest we find this?" Helga asked, looking curious.

Merlin was silent for a long time. "You cannot go against their wishes. Like it or not, they are too powerful. They can make life very difficult for you. What we must do, is find a way to let them  _think_ that we are conceding, while we are not."

Godric did not look happy. "What, and let them think we are malleable fools?"

"Which is greater, your pride or your desire for this school to be opened?" Merlin shot back. "Yes, we may lose face, but at least the school will be open. And in time perhaps we will have the influence to drop these pretensions all together."

"What is it you suggest?" Slytherin asked, looking curious, despite himself; he still did not like Merlin.

Merlin avoided their intense stares, uncomfortable with the proposition he was about to make.

"An ambassador of sorts," Merlin said, still looking at his feet. "It … it was done in Camelot. Merlin was that ambassador. When the laws against magic were repealed, King Arthur asked him to be the mediator between the magical and non-magical population. Many people were unhappy with magic being legal once more, and Merlin had to appease them, and still serve the interests of the magical population."

His heart was thumping as he said this. He remembered only too well the difficulties he had faced in those first few months. There had been so much hatred and ignorance on both sides. He felt the familiar pain as he thought of his past, but he ignored it; this was more important.

"An ambassador?" asked Godric, thoughtfully.

"Yes," said Merlin. "Someone completely impartial. He can act as the go-between from the school to the Wizards' Council. I think one of the main reasons the council opposes this school is the threat it poses to their way of life, and their fear of what this school may do. They may fear that we are teaching them to rise up against them in the future. This ambassador would reassure them of the opposite, and would serve the interests of the school whilst keeping the Council informed and satisfied."

"I do not want political influence in this school," said Godric immediately. "I do not want it mixed up in government whatsoever."

"It won't be," reassured Merlin. "The Council would just  _think_  that. They would think they had an influence, but in actual fact, this ambassador would serve the school only. It would be in charge of certain things like, say, appointments of teachers and have the final say on what was taught here and the running of the school. This ambassador would be in the middle, listening to the counsel of the politicians, but ultimately only doing what is best for the school."

"That way," said Rowena, leaning forward as she grasped the situation, "they would think they had an influence in the running of the school. That way they might be more willing to let us admit whoever we chose."

Merlin nodded. "It may not work. But it might get rid of some of the distrust between us."

"But who would appoint this ambassador?" asked Helga. "Would he be one of the Council itself? A noble Pure-Blood who is every bit as prejudiced as the Council?"

"No," said Slytherin, looking thoughtful. "Not unless we had more than one."

"More than one?"

"Yes," he said. "One from every background. That way we can know that they won't be biased. They can discuss matters more fairly then. The Wizards' Council cannot object to a whole committee's decision."

"It may just work," said Rowena. "But how will be convince them of that?"

"We will have to go in person," said Merlin, "talk to them face to face. I suggest at least one of us head down to their headquarters in a few weeks time to talk to them."

"I still don't like it," said Godric, shaking his head. "The school is for education only. Not some form of propaganda or a political tool."

"Sometimes we have to make sacrifices," said Helga, thought looking unhappy herself. "I don't like it. But Emrys is right, if it can mean the school can open to all, then we should swallow our pride."

"That's settled," said Slytherin, standing up. "I will look into this matter further. No offence, but I am the most politically minded of the lot of you. I will go to London myself after I have compiled my final argument. In the meantime, I suggest we continue as usual. The school  _will_  open. We have sacrificed too much not to let it happen now."

And with that final phrase, he swept out of the room in a swish of green robes. It was now late at night, and the darkness seemed to be pushing against the windows.

Helga sighed and stood up. "I think it time we all retire. It has been a trying day. Good night."

She left the room also. Merlin also stood, along with Godric and Rowena.

"Good night," he bid them, and left the room and out into a corridor on the seventh floor. He was exhausted and could not wait to get to his bed, where hopefully, Tenga had left some warming pans beneath the sheets. But before he had gone more than a few feet-

"Emrys."

He turned to find Rowena standing behind him in the corridor. She moved towards him in the darkness, her midnight blue robes flowing like water around her. She fixed him with an intense stare.

"You said this idea came from Camelot?" she asked.

Merlin felt a twinge of his heart.

"Yes, it does."

She frowned and looked at him curiously. "I thought you did not like that city? That you thought Merlin was a flawed man?"

Merlin tried to keep his face emotionless, but found it difficult with her standing so close and looking at him so perceptively.

"I may have said that, but not all that he did was flawed," he said quietly. "Camelot was a wondrous place. But although it is gone, and can never return, there is still some good that can come from it, if we look hard enough."

It made him sad to think of it. He had made so many mistakes in Camelot, should he be trying to relive some of those decisions? Was this a foolish move?

She shook her head. "There is something else. You do not like to look back at the past, even though you encourage others to do so. What is it about Camelot that means so much to you?"

Merlin was speechless.  _Where to begin_?

"It means much to us all," he said, evasively. "But even amongst some of the bad, good can be found. Despite Merlin's faults, there was peace in Camelot, at least for a while. Hopefully we can make it last in a way he could not."

"Why are you always so severe on him?" she asked, stepping even closer while she examined his face, making his heart leap. "What is it about him that you hate?"

 _My weakness, my folly and my naivety,_  he wanted to answer.  _The way I failed when it most mattered._

He did not answer her, acting like the coward he knew he was deep down and instead began to walk away. Unfazed, she hurried after him and fell into step with him. She had a triumphant gleam in her eyes as she realised she had cornered him. He tried to ignore this. He couldn't speak about this, least of all to someone who did not understand, who could never understand.

She opened her mouth to begin to probe him some more, but he cut across her.

"Have you learned to read those books yet?" he asked, a mildly teasing hint to his voice as he tried to detract attention away from himself. "Have you had a revelation?"

Immediately, her expression turned to one of anger and embarrassed frustration.

"Some I can read perfectly well," she said, holding her head up high. "But some …"

"Are written in languages so ancient all knowledge of them has been lost," he completed for her. "I don't suppose you've been able to translate more than a few words here and there."

She frowned, and Merlin saw the truth of the matter in her eyes, though she did not want to admit it.

"The writing is in Ancient Runes," Merlin explained, watching her carefully.

"I know that!" she objected. "But they have not been in use since the time of Camelot! Only a few phrases can be translated. But I will get there in time."

"It would be far easier for me to teach you it."

"I can learn myself," Rowena insisted, looking rather haughty. Her eyes narrowed. "How can  _you_ read them with ease? All knowledge has been lost!"

He laughed softly. "You said the very same thing about the Old Religion, and I proved you wrong on that count, did I not? I alone hold much of the ancient knowledge that has been lost. I would be willing to teach you all of it."

She looked away, though he could still see curiosity about the depths of his knowledge in her eye. "I will learn it," she said, almost under her breath. "I will."

He found himself now at the corridor with two branching corridors. One led to his chambers, one to hers. He began to head off towards his own room, but stopped to speak to her one last time.

"There is no shame in asking for help," he said to her. "Mastering this language would come far more easily if you let yourself be taught."

"I have mastered several languages on my own before now," she said, her face an emotionless mask. "I do not need help. Learning a new language takes time and effort. No one could master one in such a short space of time."

"Is that so?" Merlin asked, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

He took a few steps backwards and offered her a courteous bow. "In that case …" he smiled. "Sweet dreams, my Lady," he said, in her own native tongue.

He turned swiftly and headed off to his own chambers, enjoying the split second of outrage, indignation and shock on her features as he did so.

He chuckled silently to himself. He hadn't been able to laugh and tease in such a way since Arthur. This woman brought out the playful side of himself that had been hidden all these years.

He hadn't realised how much he had missed it.

* * *

 

Merlin woke early the next morning to Tenga pulling open the heavy curtains in his chambers and letting the early light spill in. He had a rather lengthy breakfast as Tenga asked question after squeaky question about the Wizards' Council situation, which apparently was all the house-elves had been able to talk about since the previous evening. He answered as many as he could to satisfy the elf's appetite, but his heart was not in it.

He left, still pretty early and went for a walk around the grounds, trying to clear his head. How should he go about this Wizards' Council business? He could threaten them, certainly, but he didn't want to do that. Not only was it against his nature, he didn't think it would be the best thing for the school. He was going to have to exert a great deal of diplomatic pressure.

He sighed. He'd never been much good at politics in Camelot. Arthur had handled most of that, despite Merlin's ill-gotten reputation for wisdom. Merlin had only given advice here and there. He was no politician. But still, the school depended on it.

He found himself wandering down to the path that led to the village, not really knowing why. Soon however, he noticed a figure on the path before him.

Salazar Slytherin was storming up the path, his face looking lined and ill-tempered. His hands were bandaged. He stopped and scowled deeply when he saw who was approaching.

"Come to spy on me?" he snapped. "Did Helga put you up to this?"

"No, I had no idea you would be here," answered Merlin truthfully. He glanced meaningfully at the thick bandages. "Have you been experimenting again?"

Slytherin's scowl deepened. "And what business is it of yours?"

"I could help with that," he said, motioning to his hands. "My healing techniques are far superior."

"I told you," said Slytherin. "I do not want to have anything to do with this magic of yours."

"The others do," said Merlin. "They have embraced it. But all four of you must do the same. You can only learn together."

Slytherin smirked. "Then good luck, I will not concede."

"You know about your magic," said Merlin, his voice rising. "You know it is different, and you do not doubt that mine is likewise. You just do not want to admit it. Once you do, the magic you could wield would be far greater. You could do so much good with it. You could help others from the same suffering you have endured."

Slytherin's face contorted in pain. "This magic let my family  _die!"_

"And it will stop others from having the same fate," said Merlin earnestly.

Slytherin shook his head. "I do not want it."

Merlin stopped, knowing that he would not get any further. "Your spell," he said, trying a different tactic. "Is it completed?"

Slytherin scowled again. "It is near perfection."

"But not quite," smiled Merlin, seeing his hidden frustration. "Embrace the Old Magic, and it will be."

"What would be the point?" Slytheirn countered. "According to you, we five are the only ones able to use this magic. What would be point in inventing this spell if others could not use it?"

 _Because,_ thought Merlin to himself,  _if you learn this magic, perhaps the balance of the world will be restored and the Old Religion can once more fully return to the world._

He said none of this however.

He turned and began walking back to the castle when he noticed Slytherin doing the same. "Did you mean what you said yesterday?" Merlin asked as they walked. "When they asked why you were still on our side after everything?"

Slytherin looked outraged at his directness, but he seemed willing to answer. "I do not hate Muggle-Born children," he said, finally, and with great effort. "I do not think their blood inferior because of their birth. I do not want them punished or abandoned." His frown deepened. "But I do, and always shall hate Muggles. Their ignorance and hatred knows no bounds." He looked away. "Their children deserve a chance to get away from that life, and I want to give it to them for the sake of making our world a safer one. Children who have been abandoned by their Muggle families have no loyalty to them, and so I welcome them with open arms."

"And what of those Muggle-Born children who still live with their parents?" Merlin asked. "The ones whose families accept them for who they are?"

Slytherin snorted. "Are there such families?"

"Mine was," said Merlin, staring straight ahead. "My mother was a Muggle and she accepted and loved me for who I was."

Slytherin stopped walking in surprise and looked at him in shock.

"You are Muggle-Born?"

"Half-Blood," corrected Merlin, watching him carefully. "Does that make a difference?"

Slytherin was silent for a moment. "But you are loyal to us, to wizardkind," said Slytherin, slowly. "Even though I doubted after I saw you … back home. When I heard you defend the school from the Wizards' Council I saw then that you are more loyal than I previously thought. Muggle-Born children are more susceptible to corruption. Their minds can be warped by tales of them being possessed by the Devil. They may be used as pawns by their parents to betray the school out of fear. Their very presence may put the school in danger."

"Not all are like that," said Merlin quietly. "Not all Muggles hate magic. Can't you see that?"

Slytherin just stared at him, and shrugged. "I can, but I cannot take the risk. Muggle-Born children, even those who still live under their parent's influence, can attend the school. But I shall always be wary of them. I hope one day, such measures will not be necessary, but until that day, I will not fully trust them."

"You cannot build a school on that basis," argued Merlin. "You cannot distrust half of your students because of something they  _may_  do."

"Nevertheless, I must," finished Slytherin. "It is unfortunate. But although I indeed support their education, I will still worry until I can be absolutely sure they will not turn against the school."

Merlin sighed. "I only hope you change your mind one day."

They moved forwards in silence for a few moments.

"You still do not trust me, do you?" asked Merlin.

"I trust you," said Slytherin, but sounding very unhappy about it. "I have seen enough to see that you have the school's best interests at heart. But I do not like you, and do not wish your friendship or your tutelage."

"You were quite happy to listen to my counsel on the matter of the Wizards' Council last night," said Merlin. "I made a suggestion, and you supported it. Does that not mean anything?"

Slytherin shot him a sideways glance. "I am not a proud fool, like Godric is," he said. "I know a good plan when I see one, and I am not stupid enough to ignore it just because I do not like you."

Merlin smiled. "Well, I suppose that's as great a compliment as I expect I shall ever get from you, Salazar."

Slytherin scowled. " _Lord_ Salazar to you."

"All the others gave me leave to drop the title."

" _I am not the others."_

Merlin grinned. "No, you are not. They are far less rigid. Except Rowena, perhaps. The two of you are far too serious. Remember, you will soon have a castle of young children to contend with!"

Slytherin made a face. "Not if the Wizards' Council have anything to say about it."

"But they won't," said Merlin. "You'll find a way to sort it out, Salazar."

" _Lord Salazar!_ "

"Of course," smiled Merlin, and moved off in front before Slytherin could retort angrily. He strode up towards the castle doors, wondering vaguely about what he would do today, and if he could annoy Rowena any further when a tiny house-elf Merlin did not recognise came spilling out the front doors looking frantic.

He saw the two of them walking up the path and scurried towards them, his bat-like ears flopping on his head.

"Master Emrys! Master Salazar! Please Come! Mistress Helga sends me!"

"What is it?" Slytherin asked, immediately alert.

The house-elf was gasping for air.

"There is a group of wizarding refugees going to the village, sir! Some Muggles found them about ten miles from here and is trying to burn them at the stake! One of them escaped to tell us and Mistress Helga, Mistress Rowena and Master Godric are leaving to go and help!"

Merlin went cold all over, and he could tell that Slytherin too was filled with a sudden fear.

"Where are they?" Slytherin demanded of the exhausted elf.

"The stables, sir! They is leaving right away!"

Slytherin glanced grudgingly to Merlin. "Will you come?"

Merlin reached into his pocket and grasped hold of the wand that he seldom used.

"Let's go."


	14. The Rescue

Merlin's heart was in his mouth as he rode on a proud stallion side-by-side with the Founders on the way to the rescue. He was shaking in anticipation and in anger, but oddly enough he was not frightened. He felt more alive than he had done for a long time. This was one of the few times he actually got to  _do_ something.

The group of Muggles had apparently ambushed the wizards on their way to the village. All of them had been rendered wandless on previous Muggle attacks, and since none of them knew how to use Muggle weapons, they were completely defenceless.

Merlin gripped his own wand tightly, as he began to feel the familiar but long forgotten fire in the veins that accompanied battle. Although he was comfortable using Old Magic around the Founders, he didn't want it generally known that he was different from the average sorcerer. He could use New Magic just as well as the Old, and hopefully this would be enough. He'd only resort to the Old Magic if there was no other conceivable option.

They were getting closer, Merlin knew, as he saw Godric tense up on his own horse and surge forwards. Rowena valiantly rode on in front beside him, as did Slytherin. Helga stayed beside Merlin nearer the back of their group, but it was obvious by the fire in her eyes that she wanted to be in the front with the others. She was not a very confident rider, and so Merlin stuck by her side.

Eventually, they rounded a corner on the dirt track and before them was a great clearing in a pine forest, and Merlin inwardly cursed when he saw what was going on. There were about twenty witches and wizards, some crying out in fear and terror held at sword-point by a group of about thirty Muggles who had herded them into a circle by the trees and bound their hands. But in front of them were three enormous pyres side-by-side piled high with wood and heather, with three terrified figures tied to them, wailing with fear. In front of these pyres was one Muggle, scarred and broad, clutching a flaming torch. He was leering at the wizards with a cruel glint in his eye as the torch got lower and lower to the wood-

"Stop!" roared Godric, who by now was several feet in front of Merlin and Helga, and almost upon the Muggles. "I command that you let them go or suffer the consequences!"

The Muggle turned around in surprise, but cackled when he saw who it was and their apparent lack of weapons. He made a motion for his men to close in on the Founders.

"Stop!" Godric yelled. "I demand it!"

But either the Muggle did not understand him, or simply did not care. He threw the torch down onto the wood.

Immediately, the heather piled up on the pyres was ignited and quickly spread onto all three piles and began roaring, flames leaping up into the air, sending spirals of choking smoke into the air, even as the wizards screamed for their lives.

Merlin's mind went blank with fury as he looked as this man's smug expression and something snapped within him.

" _Potentia_!" Merlin yelled, pointing his wand at the man with as much anger and power as he could muster.

The Muggle's eyes went wide with fear as he saw that the intruders were more than they appeared and tried to leap out of the way. But Merlin's spell was too quick, and soon hit its mark.

He fell, and Merlin immediately turned his head to free the trapped witches and wizards but he was caught unawares the next moment by an armed Muggle who ran at him from the side. The Muggle and his sword collided with his horse, which reared and threw Merlin from the saddle and hard into the ground where he was almost trampled by Helga's horse who was rearing in fear at the flames.

He rolled quickly to the side and leapt to his feet, ignoring the pain in his ribs from where he had fallen and wheeled around to face this Muggle. He ducked as the Muggle swung his sword at him, aided by his magical instincts. He dodged another blow and then, with a flash of his eyes, the man fell down dead.

Merlin blinked and looked down at the hand where his wand was. He hadn't meant to use Old Magic. He would have to be more careful.

Then more important things came to mind.

He turned to see the flames leaping ever higher and the screams of the wizards growing ever more terrified. He had to do something.

He saw the other Founders before him. The Muggle armed men had charged forwards and were now hotly engaged with them. Godric was dueling fiercely, his sword in one hand, his wand in the other, his eyes filled with anger. Rowena was agilely moving through the crowd, her wand slashing through the air with a rapidity so great it was almost invisible. It was obvious the Old Magic she contained within herself was aiding her; no one else would have reflexes like that. Helga was desperately trying to reach the three wizards in the centre, but the Muggles were stopping her. If she stopped still for even a moment to cast a spell to save them, one of them would kill her. It was up to Merlin. He was the only one who had a clear shot.

He lifted his wand.

" _Aguamenti!"_ he cried, sending water flying over the heads of the Muggles and towards the wizards. " _Aguamenti!"_

But although great torrents of water were falling on the pyres, the fire was too ferocious, feeding greedily on dry and cracked wood and heather. It was out of control. It would take too long to try and douse the flames this way.

Merlin's heart great ever faster as he tried to think of a new way to save them. He'd have to use Old Magic.

He raised his hand, but someone beat him to it.

Salazar Slytherin, who Merlin hadn't noticed in the crowd of fighters had suddenly leapt forwards, an intensity so great in his eyes it was as if they too were aflame.

" _Fridigus ignis!"_ he yelled, and a jet of white light came spilling from his wand and rushed straight into the flames.

Immediately, the screaming of the three wizards stopped, and was replaced by a few whimpers.

Merlin stared in shock. That spell, it had had Old Magic in it. Slytherin had finally embraced that part of him. Not deliberately, but still, it was there.

But there was no time for that, or to wonder exactly what Slytherin had done.

Now that the three wizards had ceased their screaming, Helga turned away from trying to fight her way through and instead ran towards the huddled mass of prisoners who were crying in fear as the Muggles, realising the battle was over, proceeded towards them with raised swords-

" _Stupefy!"_ Helga cried, and all ten of the guards immediately fell down senseless. Merlin blinked in surprise; a Stunner that could take out ten at once?

As she began to tend to the scared refugees, Merlin fully joined the fight with the other three, dealing with the rest of the Muggles who were by now desperate and fighting recklessly. It was no contest; steel just did not stand up to magic. Before long, the surviving eight Muggles had fell down on their knees before the Founders, crying out pleadingly the word Merlin assumed meant 'mercy' in their own language.

They'd fallen before Slytherin and were looking up at him with fear in their eyes. It was then that Merlin realised how young the survivors were; none were older than the Founders themselves, barely out of their teens. Merlin felt his anger dim a little as he saw their faces. The scarred Muggle who had set the flames, he was the leader, he was the one who had put them up to it; these boys were his pawns, doing what he wanted out of fear and ignorance. How many of them really knew the truth about sorcerers? Did any of them really believe the lies they were told?

They were a product of the ignorance and blind hatred that plagued the land. The world and forces larger than themselves had driven them along this path.

Slytherin was still in front, looking down in disgust at the men before him. His hand was shaking on his wand, and he seemed to be fighting with all his will to keep his countenance. Merlin watched him carefully. These men were now defenceless and unarmed. But would Slytheirn's anger overcome any sign of mercy?

"Please, my Lord," a boy in front pleaded, in Rowena's native tongue, Gaelic. "Please … we do only what we are told … please …"

Slytherin glared at him, his face wild. He raised his wand, and the boy flinched.

"Go," hissed Slytherin, hatred on every line of his face. "Leave here."

The boy blinked, not understanding his words. But when no fatal blow from Slytherin was forthcoming, he seemed to comprehend the situation. He scrambled to his feet and ran off, his companions following, all too afraid to glance back.

Slytherin watched them go, his jaw set. He seemed to be breathing with difficulty, and Merlin saw the old pain flare up in his eyes.

Merlin looked away from him, knowing that Merlin recognising Slytherin's difficult decision to his face would not be advisable. Instead he concentrated on the pyres, which were still burning. The figures on them were hanging limp in their bindings, but they were alive. Merlin stared in amazement.

Godric nudged him suddenly. "Come, help me."

Merlin was jerked out of his wondering, and together, he, Godric, Rowena and eventually Slytherin after he had recovered, set about extinguishing the flames. It took them several minutes because the flames were so incredibly hot and angry.

As soon as the pyres were no more than smouldering ash, Helga and Rowena leapt forwards and helped untie the three wizards from the stakes. The three of them were old, and dressed in rags. They seemed dead on their feet, faint and moaning as they walked, even as their shoes and trousers smoked. They were dazed and clung to the women as infants to mothers.

Helga went to kneel on the grass several feet away with the other wizards and witches who she had since untied. She laid the three men out on the ground and conjured blankets and goblets of water for each. She ran back to her horse where a bag of medicine was attached to her saddle and set about treating the three men.

Merlin and the others drew closer as she worked. Godric looked down at them in amazement.

"But how can this be? I thought they were goners! The flames completely engulfed them!"

"It was you," said Merlin to Slytherin who was staring down at the three men as if his life depended upon it. "You managed to perfect the spell after all."

Slytherin did not look at him. He seemed confused.

"I do not know how," he said slowly. "Only last night, the spell was useless. But today …"

"You finally showed us all what a smart alec you really are," joked Godric, clapping a hand on Slytherin's shoulder. "You'll be unbearable after this"

"But it was different!" objected Slytherin, looking bewildered. "I had a completely different incantation! I've never even used ' _frigidus ignis_ " before! How did I do that?"

"Old Magic," explained Merlin. "In that moment when you were faced with that horror, the one that still haunts you, you trusted to something more powerful than yourself. You did not think, you just _did._  The Old Religion gave you the knowledge of how to perfect the spell in that moment."

Slytherin stiffened in shock and shook his head slightly. "No," he whispered, "that's impossible."

"How else do you explain it?" asked Merlin, staring at him. "You know it as well as I. The spell came to you when you were faced with your worst nightmare, when you admitted to yourself that you were powerless. You have fully embraced it within yourself."

Slytherin was still standing there in complete shock. Merlin decided to leave him to think it over for a moment. He moved instead over to Rowena who was with the crowd of refugees. They were all jabbering away in Gaelic so fast that Merlin could not keep up with half of it, and Rowena was trying to calm them.

"What happened?" he asked, slowly, still unaccustomed to this new language.

Rowena turned to glare at him, apparently still mad he had learned a whole new language before she had, but the refugees started talking loudly to him.

"We were going north to the village!" an elderly man who was apparently the leader was saying. "We had heard it was a good and kind place. But the  _Bhurraidh_ attacked us on the way."

" _Bhurraidh?_ " Merlin asked, frowning, and he turned to look at Rowena.

She looked smug as she answered. "The Gaelic word for Muggles."

"They attacked us!" the man was still saying. "We didn't even do anything! They got us all here and started building the fires and put Eagal, Maoim and Dochann up there. Thank Merlin you arrived when you did!"

Merlin tried not to blink at this phrase. He was still unaccustomed to it, even after three centuries.

"How did they know?" he asked, slowly and deliberately. "You do not have …" he paused for a moment flummoxed. He looked to Rowena with a questioning glance and pointed at his wand.

She rolled her eyes. "Wand is  _slatan-draoidheachd_."

Merlin nodded. "I  _knew_ that. But you have to admit it's a bit of a mouthful-"

"Let me talk to them, it will take you all day," she said, cutting across him impatiently.

He frowned in annoyance at first, but then yielded. What she said was true.

"You don't have wands with you?" she asked, quickly and more fluidly than Merlin had. The language suited her melodious voice and made Merlin's halting speech and careful pronunciation look vulgar in comparison. "How could they have known you were wizards?"

"Conor," said the old man grimly, and reached backwards in the mass of people and withdrew a small boy about seven years old, crying and shaking with fear. "He has no control yet. The magic was an accident."

Merlin nodded gravely. It was the same story in far too many situations. Young wizarding children often did accidental magic in their youth. Unfortunately, if the Muggles saw it …

"You are safe now," said Rowena to the boy, and the man. "I assure you."

Merlin smiled in amusement. Rowena said it so coldly and informally it could have been a business proposition rather than comfort. Helga would have hugged the child at least.

"Are you from the new school?" the man asked, his eyes wide. "The great castle?"

"Yes," answered Rowena. "We are."

She turned and walked off towards Godric with a slight nod of her head. The refugees watched her leave with a sort of awe. Merlin turned again to the old man.

"You can come with us," he said, searching for the words. "We can take you to the village."

The man nodded eagerly. "Are you one of them too?"

Merlin paused a moment, wondering how to answer it. "A little," he answered, not knowing how to say 'sort of'. The man smiled at him and reached out to clasp his hands.

"Thank you," he said, his eyes welling up. "Thank you."

Merlin nodded awkwardly, and turned away, uncomfortable. He didn't often get thanks like that; it was one of the drawbacks of permanently hiding in the shadows.

He moved back to Helga who was still knelt in the ground, paying no heed to the fact her golden dress was now covered in mud. She was fussing around with potions and bandages while Godric was sat by the men's heads helping them drink some water to ease their parched throats.

"How are they?" Merlin asked Helga. Rowena and Slytherin had moved off to gather up the horses and prepare them to take the wounded.

"They will live," said Helga happily, a small smile on her face. "Salazar cast his spell before the fire could do much damage. There are some bad burns on their feet and legs but I can deal with those. The smoke inhalation is worse however. I'll need to observe them for a few days and make some potions to help repair the damage to their lungs."

Merlin nodded, and knelt down beside her. "Can I help?"

She glanced at him, and Merlin knew she had immediately realised what he'd been offering. She shook her head slightly and glanced back towards the refugees who were still gaping at Merlin.

"It would not be best," she said quietly, even though none of them were probably able to understand her. "I agree that your unusual magic must be kept secret as far as possible. These men do not have life-threatening injuries. Better they suffer a little bit more pain than suddenly wonder why you've got magic so powerful it could rival Merlin and Morgan le Fey themselves!"

Merlin looked away awkwardly, hit by a wave of melancholy. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Nonsense," said Helga, matter-of-factly, smearing a magical salve on some painful looking burns. "Your magic is surely as powerful as theirs was."

Merlin smiled ruefully. "And how can you know that? You've barely seen me use any magic, leastways anything especially powerful."

She fixed him with an even stare. "I have seen enough,' she said. "I told you when we first met, I can tell things about people. I know what I just said is true, and you know it as well. You are the most magically-powerful man I have ever met."

He felt a twinge of panic for a moment when Helga's perceptive glance met his. Did she know who he was?

It seemed impossible, yet the way she looked at him, as though seeing something deeper …

He looked away from her, feeling sad once more. "But with great power, does not come great wisdom," he said, looking over at the remains of the pyres. Images sprung to mind of the last time he had been in a situation like this, and how he had failed then. The burned form of those children killed by Muggles seemed branded into his vision.

Helga looked fully at him now, whilst still bandaging. "I know what you are thinking," she said. "The same pain is in your eyes as is in Salazar's right now."

He shuffled from one foot to the next. "I barely knew his family," he said. "It was horrible to see, but I do not feel the grief in the way that he does."

"That is not what I meant," said Helga, finishing off the bandage with a flourish. "You have guilt, Emrys, guilt greater than I have ever seen before."

Merlin looked down at his feet. "I failed to save Deira," he said, remembering the little girl whose illness had started it all. "If I had, then Lord Salazar's family would still be alive. Those  _children_ would still be alive."

Her face creased in sympathy. "We cannot know," she said gently. "Do not look at this scene today and see only a failure from your past. You were successful this time."

He said nothing, and she continued, stepping a little closer.

"This is not all that troubles you," she said, nodding her head. "You have guilt for Deira, but I sense there is something deeper."

She forced him to look at her, and her eyes were reading him intently. "You're sad," she said, her own voice anguished. "It eats at you inside. Your whole life is being spent trying to atone for some action in your past. That guilt drives you every single day. It does not give you peace. It is a constant reminder. And you're wandering through this world like a lost child trying to make up for it."

Merlin went cold all over as she spoke, feeling grief and suppressed emotions rising up inside of him in a great rush. How could she know all of this?

"I lost a friend once," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, wondering why on earth he was revealing his most painful memory like this. "He died, and it was my fault because I was not there to save him. And I have to make up for it. I've been trying all these years, but I just can't. I've hidden away from everyone because … because …."

"You're afraid to get too close," finished Helga. "You're afraid to lose them too."

Merlin bowed his head.

"You don't need to be so lonely," she said, smiling at him. "You have all of us now. I don't know what happened, and I won't ask, but this guilt will end up destroying you. Focus on now, and not fixing something that is unable to be fixed. You have friends now, Emrys."

He smiled at her with great effort as she turned and began to help Godric get the injured men back to the horses. A great pain was still piercing his heart.

She meant well, but Merlin knew that what she asked was impossible. The only reason he was still alive was to make up for what had happened back then. Because of his inactions, the Old Religion had faded from the world, and it was his job to bring it back again. He could never bring back Arthur, but he could bring back the world that Arthur had created. He had to.

And as much as he liked these people, unless he succeeded in his mission, and his torturous immortality finally ended, he knew he could never become too friendly with them. How could he bear it? How could he watch them all grow old and die?

And they'd never know the truth, they couldn't. Even Helga's last sentence had hurt him, as kindly meant as it was: 'You have friends now,  _Emrys.'_

He wasn't really Emrys. Emrys had been the great and powerful sorcerer in Camelot who everyone loved and respected. He was just Merlin, the dopey manservant who no one ever noticed or cared about. He could never be that man again, no matter how much he tried to fool himself.

He'd never be able to be called by his true name ever again. He would always have to hide a huge part of himself.

He mulled this over, all the way back to the castle and the rest of the afternoon as Helga and he helped settle all the refugees and the injured in for the night before taking them to the village the next morning.

His life really was just a waiting game. A game he was rapidly getting sick of.

That evening, after informing a rapturous Tenga that there would be twenty new people to cook for this evening, he made his way to the antechamber where he'd been summoned by the other Founders.

He wandered in to find all four of them before the fire, thoughtful expressions on all their faces, even Godric's. He looked up with Merlin entered.

"Good, you're here."

Merlin moved over to another chair.

"How are they settling in?"

"Well," said Helga, smiling. "I can't speak their language, but they seem to be calming down enough. Some of the children needed sleeping potions to recover from the shock."

"Terrible," said Godric gruffly. "They were already fleeing from murderous Muggles, such bad luck to run into even more!"

"Not bad luck, Godric," said Slytherin suddenly. "Evil. It brews in the minds of the ignorant. Our plans must be stepped up."

Merlin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We've decided to send Salazar down to the Wizards' Council as soon as possible," said Godric, "tomorrow in fact."

"I thought you were going to wait, and use the time to build an argument," frowned Merlin.

"We don't know how long these negotiations will last, and we must open on schedule. The incident today only reinforces what we've been saying all along. Ignorance and poor education are the true enemies. We must convince the Wizards' Council of that as soon as possible," said Rowena. "There is no time to waste."

Merlin nodded, seeing the sense in it. He looked around the rather grim expressions in the room and was struck by an idea.

"If you're going tomorrow," said Merlin, considering the idea carefully. "Then, I should like to go with you."

Slytherin sat bolt upright in his chair and scowled. "What?"

"Salazar is very capable with politicians," said Rowena, disdainfully. "He's just as cunning and devious as the rest. What makes you think you are needed?"

"I've told you before," said Merlin. "I lived for a while in a royal court. I know how these things work. I can help."

Why he was doing this, he wasn't entirely sure. Yes, he'd been involved in political decisions in Camelot, but he'd hardly been an expert in them. Was leaving the castle for such a time a good idea?

Even more importantly, should he do it for himself? He'd always shied away from attention, from the glory. Was it such a good idea to entangle himself with a ruling government?

But something deep within him seemed to be reassuring him of the wisdom of his decision. He knew it was the right idea, he couldn't explain how. But he decided to trust it.

"Well, the ambassador option was your idea in the first place," said Godric reluctantly, "but I'm not sure I want you away from the castle."

"Why not?" asked Merlin. " _you_ are the Founders. I'm just here to help. I'm supposed to be teaching you Old Magic, but I can't do that if you're all separated. Let me do this."

Now why he had decided this became a little more apparent. It was a long way to London, and he and Slytherin would have to work very closely together. Perhaps this was the way he could finally get through to him, finally get him to trust in his magic and then the teaching could begin. The way he had accidentally used that Old Magic in the spell that morning was only the beginning.

Godric thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Very well. You're more intelligent than you let on, and I'm inclined to trust you on this. Even though it will leave me all alone in the castle with the women."

Rowena glared at him, but Helga ignored it. "I'll miss both of you," she said sadly. She eyed him seriously, as though trying to figure out his real reasons for going.

Rowena seemed to be trying not to go into a sulk. "I am more intelligent than he is," she huffed. "Why should I stay?"

"Because Helena needs her mother," said Helga, gently. "And although he is not of noble birth, like you, the Wizards' Council would still not trust you as much as they would he. They're bigots, remember? They would not negotiate with a Gaelic-speaking female."

Rowena scowled but seemed to accept this. "Very well, but it still disgusts me that we have lowered ourselves into negotiating with scum such as this."

"Wait a moment," said Slytherin angrily. "Do I not get a say in this?"

"No," said Godric, immediately. "The two of you must go. I see that now."

Slytherin frowned. "You are not my master, Godric. I do not need to do what you say."

"No," he replied, gently, staring Slytherin in the eye. "But I'm asking you, as a friend, to do this. The two of you are gifted at words. Why, just a few months ago we had not even met Emrys and now he's wormed his way into all our secret councils! He's got a way about him, and so do you. I do not doubt that you shall succeed if you pool your talents."

Slytherin was still scowling, but did not argue further. Merlin said nothing. It was a long journey to London …


	15. Setting Out

Merlin had an early start the next morning. He groaned as he climbed out of his warm and comfortable bed, even as the sun was beginning to rise. He'd forgotten what it was like to have to get up before the sun.

He dressed quickly, and scoffed down some breakfast that Tenga brought up on a tray. The house-elves were apparently all ecstatically happy to have guests in the castle and new people to look after. These refugees, who had never before been in such a large building or in so much luxury were almost delirious with happiness to be treated like royalty by the elves. Most of them did not want to leave. Apparently, some of the children had taken to hiding in the dungeons so they would not have to.

Merlin smiled as he heard this. If he and Slytherin were successful, those children would soon be able to return to the castle as students. They were the people he was doing this for. The Wizards' Council didn't want them here, but Merlin was determined to make sure they came.

He left his chambers after slinging a small bag of some possessions over his shoulder and hurried down to the Entrance Hall through the silent corridors. When he arrived he found Slytherin and Rowena waiting for him. Both their eyes narrowed as he approached.

"My Lady," he said as he got closer. "I thought you were not coming?"

"I am not," she said, and the crease on her brow told him she was still not happy about it. "I am just here to see you off."

"Kind of you," Merlin said, but he could tell from the look Slytherin gave her that she had been pestering him just moments earlier about letting her come along.

She looked away and nodded her head out the front doors and in the direction of the village. "I shall be escorting our guests to the village this afternoon," she said, still looking unhappy to be charged with such a menial task.

"You don't seem happy about that," Merlin observed.

She held her head proudly. "I would much rather come with you and involve myself with these negotiations," she said. "It seems to me far more noble to involve myself in a battle of intellect rather than looking after helpless refugees."

He smiled. "That's where you're wrong. Kindness is far more noble than showing off one's intelligence."

She looked indignant, but Merlin turned away before she could answer and looked to Slytherin instead.

"Are we ready?"

He nodded stiffly, still not happy about the situation, and turned to leave through the front doors, Merlin following. It was amusing actually, he thought to himself, Rowena was desperate to come, but Salazar was not. These two were by far the most intelligent, cunning and logical of all the Founders, and they were the two that trusted him least.

They found their way to the stables by the castle walls and a stable boy gave them the reins of two large and strong horses. They attached their bags to the saddles and made ready to leave, Rowena watching the entire time with a barely concealed look of envy.

The plan was to ride as far as York, and then Apparate the rest of the way. Merlin had studied more New Magic in these last few weeks than he ever had before so he could know better the differences between his magic and this kind, in order that he could teach them in how to fuse the two types of magic. He'd also asked Tenga and some of the other house-elves about Apparition and discovered just how new this form of magic was. Although house-elves had very few limitations on where or how far they could Apparate to, it was apparent humans were far more restricted.

Long distance Apparating was still in its infancy and very dangerous, as it led to Splinching, which Merlin did not like the sound of at all. The Founders were some of the very few witches and wizards who were able to Apparate, and Slytherin and Helga had apparently been working on ways on how to improve this method of transportation, with limited success. Merlin of course, did not Apparate, but used an entirely different, and much safer, method for getting around. He had no limitations. Perhaps one day the Founders would master this method too, and perhaps improve the method of Apparating for everyone.

Merlin could of course have Transported to London directly, taking Slytherin with him, but he had no intention of doing so. It would arouse questions from the Wizards' Council on how they'd managed to get there so quickly, and also, it would deprive Merlin of the time he wanted to talk to Slytherin on the way. This would be the perfect opportunity for him to better get to know him.

Slytherin seemed determined to ignore him, and Merlin was content to just let him be. They'd be gone for a long time; he'd have to speak to him eventually.

Rowena was still frowning and Merlin went over to her as soon as his bags were attached. Slytherin mounted his horse and looked at him impatiently.

"Will you have mastered Ancient Runes before I return?" Merlin asked her, a cheeky smile on his face.

Her frown deepened. "Of course I will. You will be gone several weeks at least."

Merlin nodded, and an idea struck him.

"You know," he said slowly, "you don't have to spend your time on the Ancient Runes."

"What else shall I do?" she asked. "Most of the preparations for the school are in order; we are only waiting on the building itself to be completed."

"I meant, you could start teaching," Merlin said.

She stared at him. "The school is not open," she said to him, slowly as if he were an idiot. "There are no students."

"No, but if we're successful, we will be," he said. "And the first students will be the ones in the village, plus the ones who arrived yesterday. Most of them are from poor families, some can't even speak English. Bring them to the castle, or go to them. Teach them how to read and write, how to speak English since that's the language you've all decided to teach in. Prepare them before the school opens in the autumn."

She starred at him for a moment, her eyes looking thoughtful as they seemed to gaze out into the distance. They snapped back to Merlin and he smiled.

"Think of it as practice," he said to her. "Get to know the children who will soon be attending this school of yours. They will be intimidated by this large castle and by the four of you. Ease their anxieties. You've spent years building the castle and preparing the lessons, now it's time to actually teach."

She was silent for a moment, considering it. Then, a ghost of a smile crossed her face.

"A good idea," she acknowledged. "I will tell the others."

He smiled back. "Far more noble than sitting around and teaching yourself yet another language, eh?"

Her smiled immediately vanished, and he laughed. His laugh stopped however when he caught sight of a small bandage on her wand arm.

"What happened?" he asked, pointing.

She immediately pulled down the sleeve of her robe to cover it. "It is nothing."

"I'll be the judge of that," he said, and reached out for her hand, bringing her arm closer. He gently unraveled the bandage she had evidently hastily tied around her own arm and saw a shallow cut there oozing blood.

He glanced back at her face which looked embarrassed. "This happened yesterday? Why didn't you say anything? Helga could have healed it."

"I did not want to trouble her," she said quickly. "It is only a little cut."

He sighed and shook his head. "Are you so proud that you won't admit to even the smallest of injuries? Couldn't you have healed it yourself?"

Her face seemed to flush. "I'm not a very good Healer," she said, and Merlin saw the embarrassment in her face; she hated admitting to any form of weakness.

"Not being able to heal does not make you any less intelligent," he said softly. "Everyone has their areas of weakness."

"Not I," she said firmly, fixing him with a fierce look.

He shrugged, and placed one hand over the wound, making her flinch. " _Halian."_

His eyes glowed golden, and her whole arm shimmered. She gasped in amazement as her arm tingled and he removed his hand to reveal perfect, unbroken skin beneath.

Her eyes flicked up to his in amazement, not bothering to maintain her usual mask of indifference in her wonder.

"And you can teach me this magic?" she asked, her voice betraying her awe and excitement. "Truly?"

He nodded. "A form of it, yes. I promise you."

Her eyes flashed in a sudden childlike delight, and he smiled to see it there. They stood there, looking at each other, his hand still on her arm for several moments.

Slytherin cleared his throat pointedly. "I thought we were leaving?"

Rowena jumped and immediately pulled her hand from Merlin's grip, looking flustered. Merlin, for his part, was a little uncomfortable himself. He turned and mounted his horse.

"We shall return as soon as possible," Slytherin said to her, "but not for several weeks most likely. Please try and keep Godric from destroying the castle with his egotistical duels."

She nodded in all seriousness, her mask back up. "I will."

Slytherin nodded, bid her farewell and rode off over the lawns towards the village and the main road to take them down south. Merlin nodded to her as well, taking just a second longer to look at her, standing silent and alone before the great doors of the castle, before he too turned and headed after Slytherin on his own horse, leaving her behind.

They rode for several hours without stopping, Slytherin keeping up a pace that even Arthur would have found it difficult to endure. But Merlin did not complain, did not try to speak to him. He rode at a steady pace, a few feet behind, biding his time. Slytherin would be forced to talk to him sooner or later.

The weather was fair, but cold, and Merlin found himself bundled up in his cloak for most of the journey sheltering from the biting winds. Slytherin rode ever steadfastly onwards, not even feeling the cold. They did not stop, even for meals, following the same dirt track all day. Merlin felt his stomach groan in hunger, but he did not ask to stop; he would not be the first to show weakness. He was here to prove a point to Slytherin.

Eventually, as the sky began to darken and the nocturnal beasts began to rustle through the trees that lined the track, Slytherin called a halt. He avoided looking directly at Merlin as they dismounted and went through the undergrowth until they found an appropriate campsite in amongst the trees.

Merlin set about lighting a fire and preparing a meal while Slytherin consulted a map and took every opportunity he could to deliberately avoid conversation. Merlin passed him some food which Slytherin took without thanks and went back to the map. He stared at it so long Merlin knew he must have already memorised it, and was consulting it only so that he could avoid interacting with Merlin.

"So," Merlin said, speaking out loud for the first time in hours. "How far have we travelled?"

Slytherin scowled at him for breaking the silence, but seemed willing, however grudgingly, to talk.

"About twenty-five miles," he answered shortly.

"Not very far."

"We are in the mountains," Slytherin retorted. "The terrain is not to our advantage. After a couple of days or so things should pick up."

Slytherin eyed him closely. "You've made this journey before, and I can tell from your riding that you're an experienced horseman. How can you not know this?"

"I do," admitted Merlin. "I just wanted something to break the ice."

Slytherin rolled his eyes. "A pathetic attempt."

"Not really. It's got you talking hasn't it?"

Slytherin grunted and turned away, as if trying to prove a point. But Merlin was not discouraged. It was a start, and they had plenty of time.

The next day they rode as they had the day before, stopping only to rest, feed and water the horses. There was no conversation, no talking of any kind. Slytherin seemed determined to ignore him until they got to London and he had no other choice. They crossed over mountains and valleys and through wooded glens, the weather still holding. They camped that night beside a large loch, and again, said little to each other besides the bare essentials.

The third day again, was monotonous, with straight riding and no conversation. They passed no living soul, and it almost felt, in these bleak and desolate mountains that they were the only two people in the world.

It was not until the fourth day that they finally emerged onto flatter terrain and out of the shadow of the mountains where they could pick up speed. They started travelling through towns and villages, with people staring as they passed by; strangers were rare in this part of the world. They covered a great deal of ground that day, but again, Slytherin did not seem inclined to talk. Merlin lay awake that night pondering what to do next. Slytherin did not seem angry at him, nor as hating as he had when they had first met. He was just … distant, unwilling to befriend him. Unpleasant and abrasive, but not hostile, almost as though he was only keeping this up in a sort of pretense. Merlin sensed that Slytherin no longer hated him, but was still determined not to like him.

The next day, the good weather that had followed them all week suddenly dissipated. Swirling storm clouds appeared overhead, and icy rain lashed them in their saddles. Merlin offered Slytherin a spell that would keep the two of them dry, but Slytherin refused, just to spite him, even though he was freezing himself. So, in a meaningful display, Merlin cast the spell anyway. Slytherin looked distinctly annoyed, but there was nothing he could do, and secretly, Merlin knew he was relieved.

They did not progress as far that day, and, noting that the horses were beginning to wear out, Merlin made a suggestion.

"Why don't we stay at an inn this evening?" he shouted over the thundering rain. "I don't fancy sleeping outside in this, and the horses are close to collapse!"

Slytherin turned in his saddle to scowl at him. "A Muggle inn? Are you insane?"

"How are they to know we're wizards?" Merlin countered.

"Hmm … how about the fact that we're riding through a thunderstorm yet we're both bone dry?"

"Oh," said Merlin, glancing up at the sky. "Well, that's easily remedied."

His eyes flashed golden, and suddenly, both he and Slytherin were drenched in freezing cold water, prompting an indignant yelp of surprise from the latter.

"You fool! I'm soaked!"

"Well, we'll need to stop then, won't we?" Merlin said, though he was also regretting this rash decision as icy cold water started dripping down his neck.

About an hour later, they came across a small village that forded a fast-flowing river, its waters bloated with the rain. They dismounted from their exhausted mounts and traipsed through the village looking for the inn. They soon found it, a miserable looking place in the village square, but at least it was dry.

A dripping stable boy hurried forwards and took their horses and led them into the stables for a rub down and some hay. Slytherin and Merlin entered through the shabby doorway and into the main room.

The place was filled to the brim with Muggles seeking shelter from the deluge. Despite the shabbiness there was an air of comfort and the roaring fire immediately lifted Merlin's spirits. A few people looked up when they entered, but soon went back to their drinks. Judging by the amount of people, and the full stables, visitors were not uncommon here.

They moved through the crowd looking for the proprietor, passing many other travelers, merchants, drunkards and merry locals. Although the crowd did not feel remotely hostile, Slytherin kept his right hand fixedly in his pocket, gripping his wand fiercely, his eyes flitting suspiciously from side to side.

Merlin soon found the man who was evidently in charge, a rather beefy looking Muggle with a scraggly beard. He welcomed them with a rather toothless grin.

"Welcome!" he said, speaking in Gaelic, but with a distinctly different accent from the one Merlin was used to, making it hard for him to follow. "Looking for rooms?"

"Yes," Merlin answered, when Slytherin just stared at the man blankly. "Two for tonight. Two horses are in the … the … are outside as well."

The man nodded, evidently used to less than fluent speakers. "Very well. Ten coppers. Rooms are upstairs, the boy will show you the way. In the meantime, warm yourself by the fire."

"Thank you," said Merlin as he paid the man. A small boy led him to a small but comfortable room, where Merlin dumped his bags and changed into some drier clothes. He met Slytherin out on the landing and they went down for a quick meal.

Slytherin did not eat much; he was too preoccupied with looking in all directions, his hand still on his concealed wand.

"They're not about to attack you, you know," Merlin said, watching as Slytherin jumped for the dozenth time as a Muggle passed close to him. "You can relax a little."

Slytherin glanced at him. "I can never relax around them," he said, finally. "The last time I was in a Muggle village … well, I wasn't left with very pleasant memories."

Merlin bowed his head. "I know," he said. "But these are not the same people."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you think they wouldn't turn on us immediately when they discover what we are?"

Merlin was quiet a moment. "Maybe not. But we can't treat them all the same way."

"You seem very at ease with Muggles," Slytherin observed. "Too much at ease, one might say."

"I was raised by a Muggle," Merlin reminded him. "I spent most of my youth in Muggle villages and towns, some of my greatest friends were Muggles. While their actions and hatreds disgust me, I can at least understand it."

"I will never understand it," said Slytherin looking around the room, at the men and woman who were laughing so jovially. "They are different from us, and always shall be."

"Hating them is not the way to solve the problem of them hating us," Merlin said.

"I know," said Slytherin heavily, and for a moment, Merlin saw a gleam of sadness in his usually bright eyes. "But I am not like you and the others, able to forgive at the drop of a hat. I know I should be prepared to accept the possibility, I know that it is the right thing to do … but I fear I will never be able to do so. What happened … it will remain with me the rest of my days … I will never be rid of it. And I will never rid myself of this … distrust. Can you blame me?"

"No, I can't," said Merlin softly, feeling these words deep within himself. He thought, for the first time in a long time, of Morgana. He had trapped her in the Crystal Cave, doomed to spend the rest of eternity in that place. He had wanted her to suffer for what she had done, and he knew he would never forgive her. He doubted he would ever be able to rid himself of that hate.

Slytherin watched him closely. "You think I am a fool?"

"No," said Merlin, finally. "But hope you will change your mind one day."

Slytherin snorted, and went back to his surveying of the room, evidently not convinced. Merlin wasn't really certain of it either, but it had to be true. These four people were essential to the return of the Old Religion; it wouldn't work if one of them was filled with so much hatred would it?

"Would you like more?" the barman asked, coming over to clear away their dishes.

"No," said Merlin. "Thank you."

The man bustled away and Slytherin watched Merlin with a curious gaze.

"You speak their language?"

"A little," said Merlin. "A sort of … involuntary bet between Rowena and I."

Slytherin looked confused at this statement, but decided to ignore it. "Is there no end to your talents?"

"I can speak a few languages, yes," said Merlin, "but I'm not perfect by any means."

He decided to speak again before Slytherin could ask him what he meant; he was in no mood to go over his painful past with this man.

"Can't you speak Gaelic? It's Rowena's native tongue isn't it?"

"No, I don't," said Slytherin, his eyes still on the Muggles. "I can speak English, Latin and Greek. I know some of Helga's tongue, but only because I have known her so long. I haven't known Rowena for as long as the others."

"And yet," Merlin said, "you're willing to trust her. You don't strike me as a man who trusts easily."

"I am not," said Slytherin. "But Helga trusted her, and I trust Helga. Rowena has proven herself many times, and now I trust her on her own merits."

"And will you ever trust me on mine?"

Slytherin eyed him beadily. "If you ever give me sufficient cause."

Merlin watched for a moment as Slytherin kept staring around the room.

"You know, if you keep glaring at them, they'll start to suspect."

"I'm not glaring."

"Oh, so you're just a naturally intimidating man who looks as if he wants to slaughter everyone?"

Slytherin's jaw tightened. "I came here against my better judgment. I shall not sleep easy."

"They won't harm us," said Merlin. "My magic is too powerful for them to do anything."

"And what about the next two wizards who come along?" retorted Slytherin. "We will never be safe in the Muggle world. They cannot be trusted."

"So why did you spare them?" Merlin asked; the question had been on his mind the entire trip. "The Muggles who attacked those refugees on the road. Why not kill them?"

Slytherin did not answer for a very long time. Eventually, he took his hand out of his pocket and looked full on at Merlin.

"Because I want this all to end," he said sincerely. "The ignorance. I hate Muggles, but I do not want them dead. Not when they were defenceless and afraid like that. Killing them would only reinforce the lies they tell about us. We're better than them. I will prove that."

"It must have been hard," Merlin said. "Especially for you. The reminders …"

Slytherins eyes flashed with pain, and his hand went absentmindedly to a heavy golden locket around his neck. "Yes, but the killing has to stop somewhere. Vengeance is useless. It only inspires more vengeance. I am not fool enough to kill for no practical purpose."

"You were going to kill the villagers in your old home," said Merlin. "I had to stop you."

Slytherin winced. "That was in the heat of the moment. I was … angry, and in pain. I couldn't think clearly. It took a while for me to realise how foolish that move would have been."

"So you would have regretted it?"

"Of course," said Slytherin frowning. "I am not about to kill defenceless women and children for no reason, even if they are Muggles."

Slytherin sighed heavily, and seemed to drop his guard a little, still fingering the locket. "Muggles and wizards can live peacefully side-by-side," he said slowly. "But if there will ever be friendship between us again, I cannot know. I want us to be separate. We will leave the Muggles alone, and they will leave us alone. Let and let live. If they don't interfere with us, then we return the favour. I don't want anything to do with them. Our worlds should be entirely separate."

"That would be peace," said Merlin, "but not exactly a harmonious one."

"Does it matter?" asked Slytherin. "As long as the killing stops, I don't care if we like each other or not."

They both fell into silence for a while, and Merlin thought this over for the longest while. Would there ever be friendship between the two races ever again? Was he deluding himself?

He knew that one day the Old Religion would return, it was what he lived for, but did that mean that things would immediately go back to the way they were? He would be a fool to be so naïve.

Perhaps, this was the way after all. A truce only, not an alliance.

The room began to empty as the villagers returned to their homes and travelers went up to their rooms. Slytherin came out of his silent contemplation.

"That spell," he began, obviously voicing something that had long been on his mind. " The one that stopped those men from burning. How did I do it?"

"I already told you," said Merlin, smiling. "The Old Religion told you how."

"I do not remember being told anything."

"It's more a sort of instinct," said Merlin, thinking. "It inspired you. It wanted you to use that spell like that. It helped you save those people."

"In the same way it let my family die?" Slytherin asked in return, his hand back at the locket.

Merlin sighed heavily. "I do not understand it. But I trust in it. Perhaps … perhaps it happened because the deaths of your family were needed to ignite your desire to invent this spell. The spell will be able to help hundreds of people in the future. It's callous perhaps … but maybe their deaths happened so that you would be able to save the lives of many more."

Slytherin deliberately looked away from him. "It is callous," he agreed. "And perhaps it is selfish of me to say this, but if I had the option of saving them, or saving hundreds in the future, I would chose them in a heartbeat."

"It isn't selfish," said Merlin, his own heart heavy. "I would expect nothing less. But, it happened. And now you have a chance to bring goodness out of that tragedy. It may have been a cruel way of doing it, but life is cruel. It's our job to make the best of it."

 _Especially me,_  he thought to himself.  _If Arthur had had to die like that because of my mistake then it's the least I can do to make the future a better place._

Slytherin seemed almost to laugh. "You sound like Helga."

"Good," said Merlin. "She's a sensible woman."

"She is," said Slytherin, looking down at the table intently. "They're all good people. And … you're right. Our magic is different. I have always known it; it was one of the reasons I decided to help with the school. I wanted to explore this new magic, I wanted to master it, to be better than anyone else."

"What happened?" Merlin asked gently.

"You did," said Slytherin. "You are right; I do not trust easily. And I will not consent to be taught by you until you have proven yourself to me."

"Have I not already done so?" Merlin asked.

"No," said Slytherin staring at him. "You won Rowena over with your skill as a physician, Godric with that trick with his phoenix, Helga with your kindness and friendly nature. Now, I will judge you on your intelligence and your skills as a politician. Then, I will know."

"So I am not only proving the school's worth to the Wizards' Council," Merlin said, "but also my own worth to you?"

"Precisely," said Slytherin. "I do not trust dotards. And, now you are away from the others, I shall see your true colours for myself. Then, I shall be able to judge whether I wish to be taught by you."

"Well," said Merlin raising his goblet to him. "I hope I pass the test."

"Keep encouraging me to like Muggles, and I doubt you shall succeed," said Slytherin dryly, his hand back in his pocket.

"Excuse me?"

They turned their heads to see a portly man at the next table addressing them. He looked like a merchant, and a well-fed one at that, with finer clothes than one might expect from a travelling salesman.

"If you don't mind me saying," he began, his voice lower than normal, "but I don't think it best you talking about Muggles so loud in a place like this. Some of these Gaels know some English."

He glanced around and pulled the tip of a wand out of his pocket when he was sure no one was looking, winking covertly, as though they were in some sort of secret club.

"Thank you for your warning," said Slytherin sarcastically. "Who are you?"

"Name's Gerut," he said, bowing his head. "Merchant from the south. Heading up north on business."

"Well, we're heading down south on business," Slytherin said curtly. "Good day."

"Hang on!" Gerut said, put off by Slytherin's abruptness. "Folks like us have got to stick together!"

"Indeed?" Slytherin said, looking at the food and beer stains all down the man's front. "Whatever for?"

Gerut flicked his piggy eyes from side-to-side before continuing.

"These are dangerous times, aren't they?" he said. "I passed three burnings on my way up here, and they were just innocent Muggles caught up in it all! What's the world coming to?"

He shook his head. "Horrible isn't it? Makes you long for the old days. If old Merlin was here he'd have destroyed them all with a quick flick of the wand!"

"Oh, really?" Merlin asked, annoyed. "And what makes you sure of that?"

"Well," he said, pleased to have gotten his attention. "He was a  _proper_  sorcerer, you know what I mean? None of this nonsense about being kind to the scum that do this to us. I heard tell he destroyed an entire army of Muggles once!"

Merlin scowled.  _Yeah, an army of immortal Muggles led by two witches. Completely the same thing._

"Well, we are in a different century, and a different world now," said Slytherin. "What Merlin would or would not have done is not relevant."

Merlin smiled into himself.  _Oh, how wrong you are._

"Camelot preached tolerance and equality," said Merlin, not being able to resist. "I doubt Merlin would have condoned the killing of innocents."

"Well we have to agree to disagree there," said Gerut, waving his hand with a smug smile. "Muggles ain't innocent when they begin torching us. He would've given what for. I should know, my family are direct descendants of his!"

Merlin couldn't help but burst out laughing at this. "No, you're not," he said, staring at the man in disgust, but also mild amusement.

"And how do you know?" the man asked, evidently peeved. "Haven't you heard the legends? Merlin had a son by Morgan le Fey!"

Merlin's hilarity drained and he felt a prickling of anger.  _Morgana? Is that what these legends have resorted to now?_

It was enough to sicken him.

"Alright," said Merlin, still looking disgustedly at the man. "Say you are. What gives you the right to condemn so many to death?"

"Blood," the man said, holding his head up high. "I may be of humble means, but my family is of quality pedigree. The Muggles should fear  _us_ , not the other way around."

Merlin's dislike of the man was increasing by the minute. Here was the sad consequence of the Muggle hatred; wizards started to retaliate in ways like this.

"And that's the way to solve conflict," said Slytherin, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Gerut seemed to be getting more and more angry at his new acquaintances by the minute.

"And who are  _you?_ " he asked, looking him up and down in his muddy travel clothes. "Think you're some sort of hoity-toity lord or something?"

"Yes, actually," he answered. "I am Lord Salazar Slytherin."

The man burst out laughing, his cheeks already pink from drink getting even more flushed.

"Slytherin?" he asked, still laughing. "Still calling yourself Lord? Lord of what? A steaming pile of ash on a hillside?"

Slytherin's emerald eyes ignited with a sudden fire, and he plunged his hand into his pocket, but Merlin leapt to his feet to stop him. As repulsive as this man was, hexing him in a room full of Muggles probably wasn't the best of ideas.

Slytherin seemed ready to explode, but Merlin pulled him away from the man with difficulty before the few people in the room realised something was wrong. The man watched them leave, a repulsive look of triumph of his smug features. As Merlin turned away, he cast a quick spell and closed his eyes to hide the golden flash. He heard a crash behind him as the man's chair shattered into a pile of splinters and a whole pile of crockery on the table smashed on the floor after being knocked to the ground by the man's flailing hands.

Merlin took Slytherin up the stairs to the rooms even as the landlord rushed over and started shouting at Gerut in Gaelic, demanding payment for the ruined property. Slytherin seemed to calm down slightly. He glanced back at the chaos in the room and a small smile crossed his face.

"You did that?"

"Of course," Merlin said.

Slytherin shook his head. "I would have done far worse."

"I know," said Merlin. "And you would have had us chased out of the village with pitchforks."

Slytherin did not answer, and soon they reached the corridor of rooms.

"I thought Godric was the brash and reckless one?" Merlin asked, as they parted. "That the Slytherin philosophy was more sneaky and cunning rather than open like that?"

"It is," said Slytherin, the ghost of a smile on his face. "But we're all human."

"Yes …" said Merlin, and they went into their respective rooms. He lay awake for a while thinking this over. Merlin wasn't even sure he  _was_  human. He was from the Old Religion, he was immortal. Did that make him less human?

* * *

 

The next day showed no sign of the storm that had battered them the previous day. They left early on their rejuvenated horses and set out, riding as fast as they could with only the occasional stop to allow the horses to drink from the river they were following.

Merlin immediately noticed a difference in Slytherin. Although still not a great talker, he spoke to him occasionally, and did not scowl when Merlin rode beside him rather than behind. He made observations on the weather, on the road and the distance they were travelling and asking his opinion on what they would do when they reached London. It was by no means deep and meaningful conversation, but at least it was something.

Merlin was thrilled. He knew his patience would pay off.

They continued in this way for three more days, watching as the land changed around them. The land became flatter, with more green fields and little rivers. The roads became busier, and the language of the people they passed changed subtly day by day.

On the fourth day after their stop at the inn, they finally came within sight of York, sitting on the confluence of two rivers, surrounded by strong stone walls. There was a bustling river port visible, with also many churches and wooden houses. It was much larger than all the other towns and villages they had passed, and Merlin remembered how the city had been centre of government for many warlike kings over the years, ever since the Romans had founded and then abandoned it.

Slytherin cast his eyes over the city and urged his horse forwards. "Follow me," he said to Merlin.

Slytherin led him up to the city gates and through the great walls. Muggle guards tried to stop them for questioning, but Merlin saw a quick swipe of a wand beneath Slytherin's cloak and a brief flash of light, and suddenly the soldiers stopped their attempts to talk to them. They passed into the city without further issue.

"I could have handled them, you know," Merlin said casually, as they rode through the streets.

"Perhaps," said Slytherin, "but I know this city, and how to gain entry. Your methods may have been far less subtle."

"Maybe," said Merlin, looking around at the people as he passed. "What spell was it you used?"

"A Confundus Charm," Slytherin explained, and Merlin vaguely recalled Helga mentioning it once before also. "Godric's father invented it. It dulls the mind. It's a good way of getting past Muggles without killing them."

"Yes, I suppose a few bodies at the gate would have been suspicious."

They rode in silence for a little while. Eventually, they approached a rather grand house nearer the docks.

"An acquaintance of mine lives here," Slytherin explained, dismounting his horse. "He knew my mother. We can stay here for the night. And tomorrow, we Apparate to London."

Merlin also got off his horse and handed it to the servant that came running. He looked around.

London tomorrow … he hoped all this would not be in vain.


	16. The Wizards' Council

Merlin woke before the sun the next morning. He was holed away in a small room out of the way in the luxurious house belonging to Slytherin's friend, and he woke to find an aching back from the poor mattress he had slept on. The feather pillows at the castle were really starting to spoil him.

Slytherin's friend, some great Lord of somewhere, had let them in the previous night and they were met with mixed joy and indifference. Slytherin he had taken away for refreshments and some luxurious quarters, while Merlin had been shown abruptly to what he presumed must be a servant's room. He did not mind however; the man was such a drone and snob, sitting with him all evening would have been a punishment.

He met Slytherin out in the courtyard with his bag just as the sun was rising. Slytherin was carrying his bag also. They would leave the horses behind here, and walk to the edge of the city to Apparate; apparently the man's Muggle neighbours were alert to even the tiniest hint of magic, and Apparition was very loud.

Merlin and Slytherin set off before anyone else in the house was awake. They strolled through the streets, trying to blend in unseen with the stirring townsfolk amid the early morning hustle and bustle. Soon they had reached the city walls, and another couple of quick spells from Slytherin later, they had passed by the guards and headed out into the somewhat marshy countryside.

Neither said anything to each other, and, by silent agreement, headed towards a steep decline about a half a mile away where they could disappear. When they reached it, Slytherin suddenly broke the silence.

"Can you Apparate?" he asked.

"No," said Merlin. "I use a different method. It's far more efficient."

Slytherin frowned. "How are we to get to the same place then? Have you ever been to London?"

Not in this century.

"No," Merlin said instead.

Slytherin sighed. "I suppose we could go Side-Along-Apparition."

"And what's that?"

"I take you with me," Slytherin explained, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "That way we both know where to go."

Merlin didn't like the sound of it. "But my method is-"

"Does it attract attention?" Slytherin asked him, his eyebrows raised.

Merlin thought about the swirling winds that accompanied his own spell for moving from place to place.

"Well …"

Slytherin nodded. "I thought so. The area around London is very busy. We cannot Apparate directly into their headquarters and so, wherever we appear, there is likely to be someone close by. Yes, Apparition is loud, but we may be able to explain it away."

"Right," said Merlin, still unhappy.

Slytherin looked around quickly. "Come, take hold of my arm."

He didn't look happy about it, but Merlin complied, taking a firm grip on Slytherin's green-robed arm.

The next thing he knew, Slytherin had twisted on the spot, and Merlin felt an awful crushing sensation as all the breath was squeezed from his body. Just when he thought he could stand it no longer, he felt himself slamming into the ground.

He gasped for breath as he lay on some damp grass. He did not like Apparating!

"Takes a while to get used to," said Slytherin from the ground next to him. He stood up and brushed himself off. "Apparently, the house-elves suffer far less discomfort, probably because they're so small. Of course, Apparition is still in its infancy. Hopefully one day it will be functional over greater distances, less uncomfortable and make it so the wizard does not slam into the ground with the force of a charging centaur."

Merlin nodded as he struggled to stand. If wizards couldn't figure out a way, then he certainly would. Who would like to travel in that way?

He turned with Slytherin and let his eyes fall upon the city of London. It was larger than the last time he'd been here. It had fallen into a decline after the Romans had left, and the last time Merlin had been here, the Anglo-Saxons had begun to settle here and revive it. Now it seemed, the place was booming. It stretched far into the distance, clusters of wooden houses on either side of a vast river, all enclosed within great stone walls. It was easily the largest settlement in Britain.

Slytherin set off towards the main road that led into the city. There was a steady stream of merchants and tradespeople filing through the city gates, and he and Slytherin joined them, attempting to be discreet. But since Slytherin was wearing lavishly embroidered robes, he attracted a bit of attention; noblemennever walked alongside peasants like this.

Nevertheless, they managed to get inside without too much bother. Merlin looked up at the enclosing walls as they passed through, feeling a foreboding settle down upon him. He could almost feel the influence of the Wizards' Council already.

Inside, at first it reminded Merlin of Camelot. It had the same cramped and cluttered streets filled with merchants selling their wares, soldiers on horseback, beggars on the cobblestones. Street after winding street branched off into the distance and Merlin felt himself get a little worried; how was he ever to find his way around this place?

Thankfully, Slytherin seemed to know the way. He led Merlin confidently through the streets, along twisting dark passages for about half an hour, heading in the general direction of the river.

"What do you know about the Council?" Slytherin asked him as they walked, warning him with his eyes to drop all magical references from their conversations. The streets were so crowded with Muggles, Slytherin had hardly needed to remind Merlin of this.

"Not much," he said. "I know how it came about, what it claims to do, and I know that it is corrupt. But I don't know much about the administration, or where it is located."

Slytherin nodded. "Not many do. They keep it a secret. Although they claim to govern us, they don't much care for us. They like power, and do not want others to threaten it."

"I gathered as much by their visit to the castle," Merlin said. "How do you know so much about it?"

"My father was on the Council once," Slytherin said, a curious look in his eye. "He left it, citing gross corruption, and he fell out of favour with them, and began to travel abroad before I was even able to walk; I hardly saw him. My uncle however continued to have dealings with them, and he took me along a few times in my youth. My family has many connections amongst the nobility, so I know several of them personally."

Slytherin glanced around, as though afraid they were being followed. "They like to ingratiate themselves with the British nobility, gain leverage. Some ruling authorities in Britain are more tolerant of the existence of people like us because of these nobles, but at the same time, they are easily controlled by the Council who in turn use them to control the ordinary people."

"I expected that," said Merlin, thinking back to the early days of the Wizards' Council. "Cosying up to the people in power over the rest of Britain and therefore securing better rights for themselves, whilst leaving people like us behind."

"Exactly."

They had reached the river now, and Slytherin was looking around, trying to get his bearings. "I came here last when I was nine years old," he said, frowning. "It is amazing how much a city can grow in that time."

Eventually, he set off towards some high walls near the river, what looked like the remains of a Roman wall. He started walking along it, seemingly examining the stone work, and at the same time trying not to look too suspicious to the merchants that were milling around.

"There was a predecessor to the Council, you know," said Slytherin, still walking along the wall. "That group of people arrived with the Romans, and they met underground to avoid the … ordinary people. They were the ones that first brought the new ideas to Britain."

Merlin nodded, knowing some of this already. Wands had first appeared in Britain around that time, and had flourished under the Roman governship of the southern half of Britain. Wand magic had declined after the Romans left, and people went back to the Old Religion mostly. Then, after Camelot's fall, the wand craze was reignited, and few people now remembered a time before wands.

"This was the Roman capital," continued Slytherin, "and so, those on the old council met here. The new Council followed suit after the death of King Arthur."

Merlin nodded in agreement. The first Wizards' Council had met in Camelot, but that city was soon overthrown after Guienevere's death, and fell into ruin. It moved here then, but the few times Merlin had been to London, he had never seen their base. The governors of the wand-users had met here even in Merlin's youth, but, those sorts of wizards had never been really important. Wands were considered a fad, something they'd grow out of. It was a foreign idea to use polished sticks and shout spells in Latin. It was far weaker than Old Magic. Then the early Wizards' Council took over by moving to London, and gradually, it too was converted to wand magic, leaving Merlin, and a few Druidic descendants the only ones who preferred wandless magic.

Finally, Slytherin stopped and pointed at a spot on the wall. "Here we are."

Merlin was bewildered. "It's a brick."

Slytherin smiled. He glanced from side-to-side, muttered a quick "Follow my lead," placed his hand on the brick, and, a second later was gone. Merlin jumped and glanced around to make sure no one had seen. But the Muggles seemed quite happy to just continue with their everyday life, not caring that a fully grown man had just disappeared into a wall before them.

Merlin waited a moment, checked around him quickly, and raised up his own hand to the wall. A second later and he was falling. Darkness pressed in on him from all sides and he found it hard to breathe. Just when he thought he could stand it no longer, his feet hit the ground.

He blinked, and tried to accustom his eyes to the darkness of the corridor he now found himself in. it was roughly hewn out of solid stone, with brackets with flaming torches every few feet along it, twisting and turning into the depths of the earth. It was freezing cold, and Merlin felt every instinct in his body telling him to be wary. There was darkness here in the minds and hearts of men; he would have to be careful.

"Ready?" Slytherin asked him, emerging form the darkness beside him.

Merlin nodded, a little dazed. "Lead the way, Salazar."

_"Lord Salazar."_

"Yes, yes … let's go."

Slytherin shot him one last grumpy look, and started walking confidently down the corridor before him, heading ever deeper underground. Merlin looked around in fascination.

"Isn't this a little … I don't, now, _unguarded,_ to be the headquarters of a government?"

Slytherin smiled grimly. "Give it a moment."

After another few minutes of walking, the corridor got even colder. Merlin felt a great shiver pass through his body.

"What was that?"

"Anti-Muggle defences," explained Slytherin. "Also, other charms to make sure we aren't carrying any Muggle weapons."

Merlin nodded, and continued following until they emerged into a great carved chamber where they found the first signs of other life. An unruly looking wizard was sitting at a stone table before the entrance to another tunnel. There were several bottles of ale on the table as well as the remains of several lavish meals. The man looked up and scowled, abandoning a game of chess that he seemed to be playing on his own.

"Greetings," said Slytherin coldly, walking towards him with a very fixed smile.

The man did not smile back.

"Who are you?"

"I am Lord Salazar Slytherin," he replied, holding his head up high, "and this is my … assistant, Emrys."

_Assistant?_

The man raised his eyebrows. "Why are you here?"

Slytherin seemed to be working extremely hard to keep the smile on his face. "To see the Wizards' Council. I have important business to discuss."

The man did not look impressed. "Are they expecting you?"

"Not exactly-"

"Then you can't go in," the man said gruffly. "Chief Merrol sees no one without appointment."

"I think he will make an exception for me," Slytherin said, his voice bordering on dangerous. "I received a message from Garulf that I would like to discuss in person with the Council themselves."

The man looked intrigued at the mention of Garulf. "I didn't realise you were so important to them … _my Lord_." He looked Slytherin up and down a few moments, completely ignoring Merlin. "Very well. Denny!"

At this, a small House-Elf jumped out from behind the table where he'd been concealed, the mystery of who the man had been playing chess with revealed.

"Yes, master?"

"Send a message to the Council," said the man commandingly at the elf. "Tell them about these visitors."

"Of course, sir!" the elf squeaked, and hurried off up the tunnel. Merlin watched him go with a pang of sadness. Unlike the elves at the school, this elf didn't look well treated at all. He suddenly began to appreciate fully the generosity of Helga and what she was trying to do for them.

They waited for several minutes. The man went back to his table and all but glared at the two of them. He was obviously just a guard who had drawn the short straw and was none-too-pleased at having such a boring job. He examined them closely, a continual frown on his face; he did not trust them.

 _Well_ , thought Merlin, this is going well. _I hope the rest of the Wizards' Council are this friendly._

Not long after this thought, a pattering of tiny feet sounded from the tunnel and Denny the house-elf appeared, running and trying to catch his breath as he skidded to a halt before them.

"Chief Merrol says they is to go directly to the Atrium!" the elf squeaked. "You is to let them in."

The man looked surprised. He turned to stare at Slytherin in a new light. "Well, my Lord, you have friends in high places."

"More like enemies," answered Slytherin.

The man ignored this, and stood up. "I shall need to examine your wands. Security you know."

Slytherin looked outraged. "I shall not surrender my wand!"

"Yes, you will," said Merlin, knowing that directly opposing the Council at even this early stage would not be wise. He moved forwards, and reluctantly, handed over his wand. The man grunted and plonked the wand onto a brass instrument that hummed quietly and looked like elaborate scales. A strip of parchment came from the base. The man took it and read it, slowly, obviously not a very educated man.

"Eleven inches, dragon scale core, been in use … _one hundred years?"_

Merlin nodded in amusement. "It's an antique."

The man blinked, but seemed to dismiss it and handed him back the wand, storing the parchment away. Slytherin stared at Merlin's wand curiously for a moment, before handing over his own wand, his shoulders tense. Merlin could not help but roll his eyes; modern wizards depended on their wands so much, surrendering them made them feel almost naked, like Arthur and his sword. Thankfully, wand or no, Merlin was always able to defend himself.

Slytherin's wand received the same treatment, and soon, the elf Denny was leading them up the corridor. As they walked, Merlin sensed a great increase in the magic that was surrounding them. It was powerful, at least by modern day standards, and Merlin could sense dozens, if not hundreds of magical presences here, deep beneath the city of London.

After a few moments, they emerged into a vast circular cavern about the size of the Entrance Hall at the school. It was abuzz with activity; great stone tables were dotted across the room where rich nobles (most of them male) sat feasting on elaborate meals. Several corridors and brightly lit rooms led off from the main chamber, signs pointing to libraries, offices, personal chambers, archives and other areas. A great roaring fire burned in the centre of the room, but it issued no smoke and only a slightly woody fragrance. There were no windows this far underground, but colourful tapestries and rugs were everywhere, looking incredibly expensive. Richly dressed men and a few women were crossing the room almost constantly, house-elves and occasionally human servants trailing in their wake, the nobles not even casting them a glance.

But the most distinctive feature of the room was the huge statue that stood just behind the magical fire. It seemed to be constructed of solid gold and stood around several feet high though still not reaching the roof of this giant space. It was a wizard, richly dressed and evidently noble. In one hand, he was holding open a long scroll upon which was a map of Britain, and in the other hand he held a wand aloft pointing somewhat aggressively into the distance. At his feet stood miniscule houses and other buildings, dwarfed by the size of the wizard and looking suspiciously Muggle like. The man was old, but strong looking, with a great beard that fell to his waist. The face was stern and proud, despite the age. Merlin didn't need to read the inscription at the base to know that this statue was supposed to be him, the supposed founder of the Wizards' Council.

He had barely enough time to examine it in disgust before he noticed the elf scurrying off back the way he came as a wizard came walking towards them, his intelligent eyes watching them carefully.

"Greetings to you, Lord Salazar," the man said, his voice controlled and wary. "I am Harold, Sub-Chief of the Wizards' Council. Welcome to our Atrium."

Slytherin nodded briefly, still staring up at the giant statue. Harold followed his gaze. "Ah yes, admirable isn't it?"

"It was not here last time I came," Slytherin answered, running his eyes up and down it in a way that showed his distaste, making Merlin pleased.

"No," Harold said. "It is only a recent addition. We are rather proud of it. I'm sure Merlin himself would have approved."

 _Really? I'm quite sure he wouldn't have,_ Merlin thought, but he said nothing. Although he had been annoyed earlier by Slytherin calling him his assistant, he recognised that this was probably the wisest course of action. Merlin would stay as silent as possible, like a good servant. As well as not wanting to attract too many questions, he wanted Slytherin to take command here. The Wizards' Council would not heed the word of a peasant, which to them, was everyone without a title.

Slytherin smiled forcibly. "And this is what the taxes of the Wizards' Council are being spent on? Building great statues and not the welfare of the people even now burning at the stake?"

Harold kept on smiling. "The Wizards' Council needs to show its power in some way."

"And you think that the best way to do this is to build a statue in a place where only rich nobles will be able to see it? Interesting."

"Well," said Harold. "The poorer members of society are by no means banned from this place. If they just got on with life and stopped complaining about everything perhaps they would bring themselves out of poverty and stop whining to us. Then they can appreciate the statue with the rest of us."

Merlin felt his temper rise at the man's arrogance, and Slytherin also opened his mouth to respond angrily, but Merlin shot him a warning look. Antagonising the Sub-Chief of the Wizards' Council was probably not a good start to proceedings.

Slytherin was silent, and Harold seemed to think he had won a victory. He motioned for the two to follow him.

"Chief Merrol is very busy at present," said Harold as he led them through some brightly lit and richly decorated stone corridors. "He may be unable to see you today. I will show you to some quarters in the meantime."

Slytherin looked annoyed again, but bit his tongue. Merlin too felt they were deliberately being avoided. Their visit had obviously caught them by surprise. _Good,_ he thought, _let them be unnerved._

Harold stopped at the end of a corridor and gestured to two rooms side-by-side. "You may remain here. Chief Merrol may see you tomorrow if he is not too busy."

"That's good of him," said Slytherin sarcastically, moving into his room. Merlin caught a glimpse and saw that it too was lavishly decorated. It seemed whenever the so-called politicians came to the Wizards' Council, they expected to be in as much luxury as possible.

Merlin entered his own chambers, also richly furnished. He dumped his belongings on the bed and looked around. It was small, but luxurious nonetheless, rivaling even Arthur's chambers in Camelot. The bed was ornately carved, with gold-leaf embellishment and an inviting feather mattress. There was not much furniture but what there was, was expensive. Merlin didn't bother unpacking; he had few belongings with him, and he did not intend to stay for very long. He shoved his bag in the large oak wardrobe and sat on the bed. Across the room a tapestry caught his eye.

It was almost a direct copy of the statue in the Atrium, only in colour this time. The wizard's face looked even more harsh and aggressive, and it was now unmistakable that the dwellings he was standing on belonged to Muggles.

Merlin leapt up and ripped it from the wall, letting it fall to the ground in a heap, suddenly very angry. The legends about Camelot that had sprung up among Muggles and wizards alike were grossly distorted, but occasionally, they were so ridiculous they made him laugh. The majority were harmless and amusing, even if it made him sad that the truth had been lost. But these ones …

He didn't mind being portrayed eternally as an old man, he didn't really even mind the long beard too much. But when people like these men, and that man in the inn used his name in justification for the subjection and oppression of Muggles … it made him boiling mad. Had everything he'd worked for been for nothing?

He sat still on the bed for a while, reigning in his raging emotions, feeling the eternal melancholy he felt whenever he thought of Camelot. Eventually, he brought his mind back to the present. He cast out his magical senses, and noticed something interesting.

A few moments later he was knocking in Slytherin's door. It opened and Merlin immediately barged in without being asked.

"Emrys!" Slytherin called in outrage, but Merlin motioned for him to be silent.

Once again, he cast out his senses, and felt that same strange presence. He opened his eyes and murmured a soft spell: " _Behȳdangereord."_

Nothing happened on the surface, but Merlin sensed the change in the room and sighed with relief.

"What was that about?" Slytherin asked him in annoyance.

"They had spells around the rooms to eavesdrop on us," Merlin explained, searching for other concealed spells. "I've neutralised them."

Slytherin stopped his scowling. "They obviously do not trust us."

"No," said Merlin, quietly. "In fact, I think they might fear us."

* * *

 

Merlin spent a less than pleasant time the rest of that day in his quarters flipping indignantly through the propaganda ridden books on the bookshelf. A timid house-elf brought him some food that evening. Merlin thanked the elf, and he stopped in amazement, astonished at receiving a kind word from a wizard.

By the next morning, Merlin was itching with impatience. He was desperate to finally meet with these wizards and get out of this underground complex which made him so anxious for fresh air. He met Slytherin outside in the corridor after the same elf had brought him breakfast, apparently eager for another kind word, which Merlin had bestowed most willingly. It felt strange to be waking up in a place with no sunlight. Slytherin nodded to him as Merlin joined him.

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Merlin said, and the two of them found their way back to the Atrium. The place was still incredibly busy, and Slytherin and Merlin, by pre-agreed plan, took seats at the stone benches around the Atrium, Merlin with his back deliberately turned to the statue.

The two of them sat there for what seemed like several hours, not speaking to anyone. House-elves came up and asked whether they would like any of the elaborate food the other wizards were stuffing themselves with, but they refused. Noblemen and other wizards passed by them all day, staring at them curiously, but neither of them moved. Guests at other tables whispered about them, but again, they made no actions.

The Wizards' Council had thought to stow them away in some rooms out of the way where they could be spied on, but Slytherin and Merlin had refused to stay there. They would remain here in the Atrium, at the heart of the Council, until they would consent to meet with them. They were not about to be hidden away. They _would_ be seen.

Soon, groups of official looking wizards started congregating in the Atrium, pointing at them and whispering behind their hands. Merlin smiled; it was working.

After another few hours, and just when Merlin's patience was running thin, Sub-Chief Harold came up to them.

"If you are trying to prove a point, you have succeeded," he said, casting his displeased eyes over them. "The Council is meeting in five minutes. Chief Merrol will be there to hear your … demands."

Slytherin smiled at him. "I thought he was busy."

Harold scowled at them, and turned to leave. Slytherin immediately stood up with Merlin and followed him.

"Let me do most of the talking," Slytherin said to him in an undertone.

"I was planning on it," said Merlin. "You're the Founder, they won't have any confidence in the school if you stay quiet and I do all the work."

Harold led the two of them through many labyrinthine corridors, going deeper and deeper underground. Merlin felt his anticipation rise. Somehow, he knew deep down, that whatever happened in this meeting would be important, a turning point of sorts. He could not afford to fail.

Eventually, Harold stopped before a great wooden door and looked at them severely.

"These are the Council Chambers," he said, "The entire Council will be inside." He glanced at Merlin specifically here. "You will mind how you speak to them; they are the most respected and dignified nobles in the land."

Merlin smiled grimly. "I shall treat them with respect as long as they do the same with me."

Harold's scowl deepened at his impudence, but turned and knocked quickly on the door, opening it and leading them inside.

The Council Chambers were about the size of the ones at Camelot. It was again, lavishly decorated, with many tapestries and bright golden lanterns. In the centre of the room was a long polished wooden table. Merlin frowned when he saw this; the original Wizards' Council, modeling itself after Camelot, had met at a round table. Apparently they had now given that up along with every other good virtue.

At this table sat eleven richly dressed men, twelve, when Harold took his seat at the top beside the man who was evidently Chief Merrol. He sat in a throne-like chair, golden almost, wearing elaborate robes and carrying a sort of sceptre in lieu of a wand. His face was stern and noble, lined with age, but still looking in the prime of life. He and everyone else around the table were watching the two of them with interest.

Slytherin gave a short bow, which Merlin grudgingly copied. Merrol tilted his head in return and gestured to the bottom of the table where there were two empty seats.

"Please, join us. We are civilised here," he said, his voice hoarse and carefully controlled.

Slytherin and Merlin sat. Merlin felt the eyes of everyone in the room upon him and felt his courage rise with this attempt to intimidate him.

"Lord Salazar," Merrol nodded to him. "It has been many years. The last I saw you, you were still riding around on a fat grey pony in your mother's courtyard. Dreadful news about your family. You have my condolences."

Slytherin stiffened. "Condolences mean little," he answered coldly. "Far better we exert our efforts in trying to stop it happening again than lamenting over the past. That is the reason I have come."

"Right to the point then, are we?' Merrol asked, sighing, as though Slytherin had disappointed him. "Very well."

He sat up a little straighter in his chair.

"I take it you have received the message I sent Garulf to give you?"

"I did," said Slytherin, "and I came immediately to deal with these outrageous demands."

"You certainly did," said another man around the table. "He has not yet returned from the journey. You must have travelled fast indeed."

"Apparition," said Slytherin. "It is almost instantaneous."

A couple of people around the table chuckled. "Apparition?" one asked condescendingly. "You've taught yourself a house-elf trick?"

"Yes," said Slytherin, "and I suggest you do the same. It is the future of magical transportation. I challenge you to find a better replacement."

There were a few indulgent smiles. "Will never catch on," a few people were muttering, but Merrol ignored them.

"And what is it about those demands which you found unreasonable?" Merrol asked him. "I thought they were self-explanatory."

"I do not see you have the right to stop our school from opening," said Slytherin. His voice was calm and controlled, everything needed by a mediator, but there was danger in his eyes that neither Merlin nor anyone else in the room missed.

"You are a citizen of our domain," said Merrol, "and we do not wish for you to open this school. The children of Britain need no education."

"That is ridiculous," said Slytherin immediately. "Every day more are burned. Something needs to be done, and if the Wizards' Council will do nothing, then we must."

"It is not our fault that people are unable to defend themselves from mere Muggles," said Merrol lazily. "They should not waste away their talents."

"No," said Slytherin. "They need to be taught to use them."

"They are taught by their parents."

"Not all, and not well," said Slytherin. "There are many wizards and witches in this country who simply have not the time or the inclination to teach their children properly, or to a decent standard. We offer an alternative."

"If the family has no time," said another man at the table, "then they simply hire a tutor. Much more convenient to be taught at home than crowd dozens of children into the one castle."

"Not everyone can afford tutors," said Slytherin, all but glaring at them. "They don't have a chance."

"The poorer people in society have no need for powerful magic," said another, waving his hand dismissively. "What would they do with it? Transfigure their pig stys into palaces?"

There was some scattered appreciative laughter, and Merlin kept his silence with difficulty.

Slytherin was not swayed. "My father was always travelling when I was a child and rarely at home," he said. "My mother had not the advantage of a great education and was unable to teach me powerful magic, and there were no tutors available. If not for my uncle I would be unable to do more than light a bonfire. As it is, my uncle was a poor teacher, and his own son was a poor wizard. I travelled extensively and taught myself magic, but my cousin was unable to do so. If he had had the benefit of a standard education, perhaps he would have been able to fight off the Muggles that attacked our home."

Merlin turned to face him at this, having never heard him elaborate about his family before. The Council seemed unmoved.

''Perhaps he was just weak."

"Not weak," snarled Slytherin. "Just disadvantaged."

Merrol sighed. "I sympathise, I really do," he said, putting a false smile on his face. "And I agree, perhaps a standard education may improve the lot of the wizarding peoples of Britain." He leaned back in his chair. "It may be a good idea, if only you would limit yourself."

"Limit myself?" Slytherin asked, but Merlin sensed he already knew what was meant.

"You won't stop at the children of the nobility," said Merrol. "You want to educate all children. You expect our children to mix with those of the average farmer. And worse! Children of non-Saxon heritage! Even those from Muggle families! It is not to be borne."

Everyone around the table nodded their heads in vigourous agreement. Merlin had a sudden urge to knock all their heads together.

Slytherin was silent a moment. "It would be foolish to ignore the peasants of this land," he said quietly. "They far outnumber us."

"Exactly," said Sub-chief Harold. "What would happen if they suddenly found out how powerful they could be?"

"Nothing," said Slytherin, "they would simply be better able to defend themselves. They would have no need to rise up in rebellion, if that is what you are concerned about. Unless of course, the Wizards' Council gives them sufficient cause."

There were many dark scowls at the table as Slytherin's implications hit home. Merlin had to admire him; Slytherin had a very convincing manner.

Slytherin continued. "The more people are burned at the stake, the worse a reputation wizards get," he said softly. "Do you honestly think you can continue to live in the pockets of the Muggle nobility? In time, they will turn against you, and this comfortable life you have built for yourself will be gone. Do you want to risk that? Teach the peasants how to use their magic properly, and slowly, the burnings will decrease, and there will be less need for secrecy for all of us. Surely that is to your advantage?"

He'd got them there, Merlin saw, and they all exchanged worried glances. He could tell that the thought of losing their exquisite meals and fine clothes made them all anxious.

Merrol however did not betray any emotion. "You may have a point," he said, slowly. "And even the peasants I could perhaps endure. Explain the Celts."

Slytherin almost scowled. "Garulf said himself that alliances will soon be forged. We all live in Britain, and as kingdoms expand, we will soon be unable to avoid contact with each other. Better to make that contact peaceful and mutually beneficial. Teaching only Anglo-Saxon children would soon lead to a great inequality in the land, and that can only lead to conquest and war which would be costly for us all."

Again, Slytherin seemed to have struck home as the Council whispered amongst themselves about the safety of their money vaults and fears of conquering armies. Merlin could not contain his disbelief. These people were so incredibly stupid it was even more evident that the only way they could have found their way onto this Council was by bags and bags of gold. They were like sheep, and Slytherin was slowly winning them all over.

But then he looked at the head of the table and saw the faces of Merrol and Harold and saw the truth of the situation. They alone were still facing forwards, looking thoughtful and calculating. They were the only real brains on the Council; they were the only ones in control. It was them Slytherin would have to win over, and it didn't look good.

Merrol was still watching them with an intense gaze, keeping his face expressionless.

"Very well," he said, "the Celts may be endured also. Your words are silky, Lord Salazar, and you have convinced me on two of your points. But on the third, I am afraid there is no leeway whatsoever. I will not consent to Muggle-Born children being educated along with the Pure-Bloods."

The Council's mood immediately changed, and they started nodding smugly at Slytherin as though they were the ones who had spoken.

Slytherins eyes went hard. "Only a fool rejects compromise," he said, his eyes fixed on Merrol. "It would be wise to keep your mind open."

"Not on the matters of Mudbloods," said Harold vehemently, scowling at Slytherin.

A chill went right through Merlin as he heard that word.  _Mudbloods._  He remembered Garulf saying something similar at the castle, and he felt the same sense of foreboding as he had then. The word ignited a silent fury deep within him that he found hard to control. It was obvious who was meant by such a degrading term.

Slytherin kept his cool however, only his eyes betraying his anger. "That would also be foolish," he said. "Muggle-Born children are becoming ever more common. It would be a mistake to ignore them."

"There are some who even question whether they exist," said Harold. "That they are just Muggles who have stolen their magic from an innocent wizard. After all, how can such scum breed magical children?"

Again, Merlin felt himself hard-pushed not to jump in and retort angrily, but he kept his silence. He would not interfere with Slytherin's work.

"I would question what sort of respectable wizard would allow a seven-year old Muggle to overpower him and 'steal' his magic," Slytherin said. "Do you admit that such a thing is possible?"

There were a few sceptical mutters, but no one spoke up.

"Muggle-Born children  _must_  be educated," said Slytherin fiercely. "They expose us all because they have no idea how to control themselves. Instead of censuring them and leaving them to die, teach them to be valuable members of society. Surely that is better than letting them burn? You will never be rid of them. More will be born every year. Do not give them cause to resent you."

"And you're happy with this?" Harold asked, leaning in. "You who has lost so much to Muggles? You are happy to educate their children?"

Slytherin paused a moment; Merlin knew how hard this was for him to admit.

"Yes," he said finally. "These children are not at fault. If we educate them young enough, they will grow up to not resent magic and fear it. They will be loyal to wizardkind."

His eyes flashed as he said this, as though he was still unsure of his own convictions.

Harold smiled condescendingly. "And what about those who still live with their parents? I've heard what they do to their children. They tell them they are possessed by Satan and the only way to rid themselves of him is to betray other witches and wizards. Can you trust them?"

Slytherin was silent, and Merlin turned to face him, worried; he knew this was something that he was often at odds with the other Founders about.

"They …" he began, with difficulty. "They will be given the same opportunities. They deserve a chance to rid themselves of the horrors of the Muggle world."

"You don't sound so sure."

"The other Founders are adamant on this," said Slytherin. "And I trust their judgment."

Merlin thought however that he didn't sound so sure. He wondered whether Slytherin would always feel like this, whether or not he would fail at the first test,

"Muggles are scum," said Harold. "Why do you want to help their children?"

"I agree," said Slytherin, making Merlin almost flinch. "I hate Muggles, and I always shall. But their children should not be punished. Show them a better life, and they will thank you for it."

"But their blood-"

"Their blood is not the issue," said Slytherin fiercely. "Muggles are inferior only because of the values they hold, not their blood. Unlike you, I do not see them as animals who can be hunted down without conscience. They are wrong, and often cruelly evil, but they are human nonetheless, however much like animals they act. I do not kill them for fun, as I know some of you do. I want peace between the two of us, and the best way to do that, is to stop this ruthless murder on both sides. I will never get on with them, I will never like them, and I do not ask it of you. All I want is the killing to stop. To make this land a safer place for us all."

"Even though you have suffered?"

"Even then," said Slytherin, glaring at Harold now. "I have self-restraint. However much I hate them, I know that slaughtering them is not in our best interests. I am not a foolish man driven by my passions, I pride myself on having a little more intelligence than that."

Harold fell silent, and everyone around the table exchanged glances. Slytherin was winning the argument. Merrol broke his contemplative silence.

"You are very calculating, Lord Salazar," he said, still staring at him intently. "You have given this a great deal of thought."

"This school means a great deal to us," Slytherin answered. "You know that it makes sense."

Merrol smiled. "Yes, I do. I agree with everything you have said."

"What?" asked Harold in outrage, turning to the Chief. "Have you lost your senses?"

Merrol held up his hand to silence him, still staring at Slytherin. "I agree, these people must be educated," he said. "Our tax revenues are dwindling and the wizarding population is falling because so few are able to adequately train themselves; many are little more than Muggles who can make random acts of magic occur by accident. The country is in gross need of change."

Merlin held his breath, not daring to believe it. It could not be as simple as this.

Merrol's smile widened, though it looked more threatening than kindly. "But I cannot consent to a single school. Educate the Muggle-Borns by all means, but I will not permit them in the same school as Pure-Blooded children. I cannot take the risk that they will be corrupted. Build another school if you wish to educate these children, I will not stop you. But there can be no integration."

Merlin nodded, finally understanding. Unlike most of the wizards on the Council, Merrol was smart. He knew that the school was a good idea, that continued strife was not to the Council's advantage, but he still felt the threat. He did not want them to mix freely.

"If we separate them," said Slytherin, "that will only increase feelings of inferiority."

"I thought you wanted Muggles and wizards to be separate?"

"These children  _are_  wizards," said Slytherin. "They will not return to the Muggle world, they will join us in ours. How are we to ensure peace between them if they were taught that they were unworthy to study along Pure-Bloods?"

"I will not change my mind," said Merrol. "Not unless you come up with a greater argument that  _that."_

Merlin cursed inwardly. Things had been going so well.

Merrol nodded. "I see you have no further argument. I thought as much. The edicts I sent to your castle were intended as a test Lord Salazar, to see how far you would go to protect this school of yours. You have our final decision: the school can open, and you can teach who you like, but Muggle-Borns must be separated. I suggest you take this suggestion, it is the best offer you shall receive."

Slytherin was silent for a few moments, and Merlin's mind began to race. What were they to do? The whole thing was ridiculous! He could keep quiet no longer.

"You seem to take delight in celebrating your …  _founder,_ " said Merlin softly, nodding to yet another 'Merlin' tapestry on the wall. "But have you truly forgotten the true tale of Camelot?"

Everyone turned to stare at him as though suddenly noticing he was there.

"And what, pray tell, is that?" Merrol asked, evidently intrigued by him.

"Merlin," he began, feeling uncomfortable talking about himself in the third person to all these people, "advocated peace and tolerance. He created a place where everyone lived in peace. He would not have condoned this."

"Oh, really?" asked Harold, evidently disbelieving. "And why must we believe you?"

 _Because I_ am _Merlin._

"Because you are evidently not as stupid as you appear," said Merlin instead. "It would be foolish to appear so biased when your Council tries to emulate the past in such a way."

Harold opened his mouth to retort angrily, but Merrol silenced him. He looked ever more intrigued.

"And you are a great authority on the matter?" he asked. "By virtue of your name perhaps?"

He tilted his head and examined him thoroughly. "Garulf sent a message ahead of him and mentioned you in particular. A peasant, but evidently an educated one. You are a mystery. And you bear such a powerful name … is that ego, or is it aspiration?"

"My mother liked the legends," Merlin said, staring back unblinking.

"Is that so?" Merrol asked. He glanced quickly down at the table where there were several rolls of parchment. "I can find no record of you anywhere. Why is that?"

Merlin did not answer. How could he explain that?

Merrol smiled, thinking he had achieved a small victory. "What right have you to fight on behalf of the school?"

"I am a friend," Merlin answered, "and nothing more than a humble physician."

"A physician?" Merrol asked, amused. "And you think we are a plague that must be cured?"

"No, simply a fever that must be controlled," Merlin retorted, prompting annoyed glances from the Council.

Slytherin rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Merrol did not look insulted, just further intrigued.

"Such a loud mouth for one of such lowly birth," he said. "But are you really a peasant? You are intelligent, educated and command a certain presence that I cannot explain."

Merlin said nothing, and Merrol leaned in closer. "You have a curious accent," he observed. "Archaic almost. Just as if you have stepped straight out of a history book."

It took everything Merlin had not to wince at that last comment. He did speak with a rather old-fashioned accent, something that he had not yet rid himself of. It seemed to have finally caught up with him.

Merrol seemed pleased by his silence. "You must be one of these people who try and aspire to the so-called glory of Camelot," he said. "You are a fool. The world was not perfect then, and never shall be."

"It does not mean that we should not try," said Merlin quietly, too late deciding to try and speak in a more neutral accent.

"Tell, me," said Merrol, "what would you gain out of this school?"

"A chance to help others and end the ignorance and violence in the world," said Merlin immediately.

Merrol raised his eyebrows. "And you think this school can achieve that?"

"I have no doubt."

"Interesting. But you really condone the mixture of magical and Muggle blood?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "I myself am a half-blood. I firmly believe in this."

There were a few hisses around the table. Merrol laughed softly. "You freely admit to having Muggle blood? Most people would be too ashamed to own up to it."

"I am not," said Merlin, thinking of his mother and the kindness she had shown to all, regardless of who they were.

Merrol watched him for a few more minutes, as though trying to size him up. Merlin stared back, hating this man more and more with his bigotry and corrupt and manipulative ways.

Eventually, Merrol turned back to Slytherin.

"Very well, you have piqued my interest, and I am willing to hear you out. What is your proposition?"

"Proposition?"

Merrol smiled condescendingly. "My dear Lord Salazar, do you really expect me to believe you came all the way to London without offering some sort of compromise? I know you are far too intelligent for that. Do not insult my own intelligence, give me your offer."

Slytherin glanced at Merlin for the briefest of moments. "We have come up with a solution that may benefit us all."

"Please, let us hear it."

Slytherin fixed them with a cold and calculating stare. "An ambassador, or better yet, a group of ambassadors. They would act as a liaison between the Council and the school. They alone would have the final say on the things that are taught and will listen to both your views and ours and decide what is in the best interests of the school and the wizarding community at large. We would admit whoever we liked, and these ambassadors would report to you, to reassure you of what was going on, whilst protecting the student's interest at the same time. They would decide who would ultimately be in charge of the school, appointing teachers and approving the curriculum. They would be loyal to the school only, not the Founders, and certainly not the Council. Impartial and unbiased, both parties would have an influence in the school. What do you say?"

Merlin could tell Merrol was genuinely astonished by this proposition. It was a few moments before he could say anything. Eventually, he managed a small smile.

"This is by no means a small proposal, are you certain of this?"

"Absolutely," said Slytherin, his expression neutral. "We are determined to open this school."

Merrol nodded. "Ambassadors … "he said, mulling it over. "I suppose … yes, it might work."

"But these ambassadors must not be selected solely from the Wizard's Council," said Slytherin immediately. "One may represent you, the rest must be from a diverse range of backgrounds to ensure true impartiality."

There was scattered murmuring at this, with a few cries of 'ridiculous!'

Merrol seemed to be still thinking it over. "Why are you offering such a thing? Do you wish the school to be allied with the Council?"

"Hardly," said Slytherin dryly. "Lord Godric is adamant that this school be completely separate from politics."

"How very dull of him."

"But," continued Slytherin, "we are willing to concede that the Council must have  _some_  influence. And this is why we offer this. You will not be in charge of the school, you may not say who we may and may not admit, but you will be kept entirely informed of what we are doing there and what we are teaching them. That is your real objection is it not? More than distaste of mixing with Muggle-Borns, you fear we may use these students against you. These ambassadors will prevent that."

"You cannot refuse," added Merlin. "For if you do, then we will be forced to take your other suggestion and open a school solely for Muggle-Born children. And then how will you reassure yourselves that we are not training them to act as an army to overthrow you?"

Merrol's eyes snapped back to Merlin's. A shadow seemed to cross his eyes.

"The Muggles have very little of use," he said finally. "But they do have one saying that I feel is applicable to this situation: 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.'" He paused for a moment, swiveling his eyes between the two of them. "I want this school to open, but I do not like your system of managing it. Can you reassure me that these ambassadors will be completely impartial? That they will act only for the good of the school and not for your own personal gain?"

"I can," said Slytherin, "if you will reassure me of the same thing on your part."

Merrol was silent for a long time. Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath. He finally looked back at Slytherin.

"I can promise that," he said. "But you must realise that whoever these ambassadors are, they may not conform to what visions you have for this school."

"I realise that," said Slytherin. "But I have faith that common sense will prevail and they shall allow us to admit whoever we see fit."

"And if they don't?" Merrol asked him. "Will you abide by their decision?"

Slytherin said nothing for a moment. "I will," he said finally.

Merlin released the breath he had not realised he'd been holding. This was a huge gamble. If the ambassadors decided against the Founders …

But they wouldn't, he told himself. As long as they consisted of a variety of people, all of whom were educated and filled with good sense, which Merlin would make sure of, they would surely side with the Founders. Surely not everyone was as bigoted as these men were? He hoped Slytherin knew what he was promising.

Merrol nodded eventually. "Then I shall think about it," he said. "Come and see me tomorrow and I shall give you my decision."

He stood, even as some of the men around the table, Harold in particular, began to protest. He took one last look at Slytherin and Merlin.

"The two of you had better hope you know what you are letting yourself in for," he said, and he swept out of the room.

Slytherin and Merlin exchanged a glance. Now the cards had been played, he only hoped it would all pay off.


	17. Roof of Clouds

"Can you believe their nerve?" Merlin asked indignantly, the evening after their meeting with the Wizards' Council. "The things they were saying! It's vile!"

"I agree," said Slytherin, sitting in a hard-backed chair before his fire; as a nobleman, his chambers had a fireplace, unlike the one Merlin had been shoved into. "But we must keep our cool."

"I will," said Merlin, "in front of them at least. Here I can say whatever the hell I like about them."

Slytherin almost managed a small smile. "Thank goodness you are here and not Godric. He would have beheaded the lot of them with that infernal sword of his without thinking. At least you are calmer."

"A compliment? That's unusually kind of you, Salazar," said Merlin. "But what about you? Weren't you angry?"

" _Lord_ Salazar! And yes, of course I was," said Slytherin. "I wanted to hex them into all manner of slimy creatures and throw them into jars to rot forever, but I keep my temper. I prefer to work through more subtle means."

"Oh?"

"Godric thinks being brash and reckless is courageous and noble," said Slytherin, "but it is foolhardiness only. Better to bide your time and use your mind and your cunning. Not only are you more likely to succeed, but you'll get far less scars out of it."

Merlin almost laughed. He sank down on another chair. "And you're more able to swallow your pride than he is?"

"Of course,' said Slytherin. "What is pride but a ridiculous hindrance? I use my wits, not my muscles. If we all swallow our pride once in a while the world would be a better place."

Merlin nodded, thinking of Arthur suddenly. "You are very different from him," he said, suddenly struck by the similarity of the relationship between Arthur and himself to that of Godric and Slytherin's. "But you would risk everything to save him, would you not?"

"Only if it were to my advantage," Slytherin said delicately. It was a moment before Merlin noticed the playful tone to his voice, and he laughed.

Yes, it did remind him of those years in Camelot. Everyone had thought they hated each other, but the opposite could not have been more true. They just rarely admitted it to each other. He was beginning to see Slytherin in a new light.

Slytherin might appear harsh and unpleasant, but Merlin was seeing a different side to him. He wasn't as open and friendly as Godric or Helga, he was far more reserved. But he was now seeing what Godric had meant when he'd said Slytherin had sense of humour. It seemed to be very easy to misunderstand him. Merlin was glad he was now able to see even a little part of the real man behind the mask.

Slytherin glanced at him, and then at the wall behind. "They seem to have one of those ghastly tapestries in every room."

Merlin didn't need to turn around to know that he was referring to yet another 'Merlin' picture.

Slytherin shook his head. "I have not studied the legends in any great detail, but I am certain he would not have condoned what the Council is saying."

"Yes, probably not" said Merlin, avoiding looking directly at him. But Slytherin seemed determined to talk to him about it, watching him carefully.

"You always seem so strange at any mention of him," Slytherin said, a shrewd look in his eye. "Why is that? Is he your hero?"

Merlin had to stop himself laughing out loud.  _No, far from it._

"Not exactly," he said instead. "But I think they are misguided in claiming that he is the founder of their movement. This is the exact opposite of what he preached."

"So you admire him then?" Slytherin asked.

Merlin was silent a moment. "He did great things," he said carefully, "but he could not maintain them, and the world fell into the chaos it is in now."

"So you blame him?"

Merlin was feeling quite uncomfortable now. "No," he said, "but I think he could have done more."

Slytherin raised his eyebrows. "The most powerful and most famous sorcerer ever to live and you think he could have done  _more?_ "

"Camelot was not perfect," said Merlin quietly. "That is why I stopped Helga from naming the school after it."

"But I thought you followed the Old Religion?" asked Slytherin. "Don't you wish for those days to return?"

Merlin felt the familiar sadness at his heart. "No," he said.  _I wish I could return to them._

Slytherin shook his head. "I do not understand you. If you hate what existed back then, then why do you wish to teach us this magic?"

Merlin thought for a moment before answering. "I do not hate what existed back then," he said. "I have faith that the Old Religion will return one day, and that teaching the four of you is only the first step of that journey. And when it does return, I hope it will be greater than what was. I hope it will not fail this time around."

Slytherin still looked confused, but seemed content to remain silent. Merlin felt a great weight settle on his heart once more. Doubts began to gnaw at him as they ever did. Was this the right path? Would teaching the Founders actually do what he hoped?

"Thank you," Slytherin said suddenly, looking away from Merlin.

Merlin frowned. "For what?"

"For your help today," said Slytherin, still avoiding looking at him. "Your assistance was invaluable. I am not yet too proud to admit when I have been helped."

Merlin was surprised, but not unpleasantly so. "You're welcome," he said. "Does this mean I pass the test you set me?"

Slytherin smiled. "Not yet it doesn't, we still have tomorrow's meeting."

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Merlin and Slytherin were summoned rather unceremoniously to the Council chambers. Oddly enough, Merlin didn't feel nervous in the slightest. He felt a strange sort of calm descend upon him that he couldn't quite explain.

Merrol was once again sitting in is throne-like chair at the head of the table, watching them lazily, with the air of superiority that gave rise to a quiet resentment in Merlin. Harold was sitting beside him, glaring at the two of them. This alone gave Merlin hope.

Merrol waited until they were seated before speaking.

"You win," he said. "I will consent to your plan."

Although Merlin had the urge for a sudden grin, both he and Slytherin kept their faces emotionless, too well practiced at diplomacy to give anything away.

"I am grateful," was all that Slytherin said, bowing his head. "You are making a wise decision."

"Thank you," said Merrol, "I can assure you, not many in this room agree with me. But I have the final say."

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I have a few conditions of my own however that I hope you will agree to."

"Oh?"

"Yes," he said. "The Wizards' Council always works in twelves, as I'm sure you have noticed. We will have twelve of these mediators. Half of them shall be appointed by us, and the other half, by the Founders. You may choose whoever you like."

Slytherin nodded, and Merlin was silently relieved. Twelve was a bit more than he had hoped for, but it may prove to be advantageous, even if there was now no longer any guarantee of complete impartiality. As long as the Wizards' Council's approved men were in equal number to the ones chosen by Godric and the others, there may yet be equality. It was a compromise he could live with.

Merrol smiled. "Also, the term 'ambassador' seems a little too dramatic for a school. It almost makes it sound as if we are at war! How about … Governor?"

Slytherin frowned. "Governor? That makes it sound as though we are children in need of guidance, not rational adults capable of running a school."

He glared at Merrol for a moment, before acquiescing. Both he and Merlin knew that arguing this point would be futile. The name itself would not matter in the long run. Merlin had a sneaking suspicion however that Godric would not take to kindly to it.

"Very well," said Slytherin standing up. "Twelve School Governors it is then. Good day."

He and Merlin turned to leave, when Merrol called them back.

"Has the school no name yet?"

"No," said Slytherin.

"Pity," said Merrol. He sighed. "I shall appoint my six in the following weeks, I suggest you do likewise. I shall send you their details. I would like all twelve to meet at your school and then report back to me before it opens. If the school proves a success, I shall expect yearly reports from them. They will not interfere too greatly with the running of your school. Appointment of teachers and subjects shall be your prerogative, but the Governors will be in charge of appointing your chief teacher. All other major decisions shall be run past them. Am I understood?"

Slytherin nodded, though looking distinctly annoyed. "Is that all?"

"Yes," said Merrol, even as the rest of the Council gave them parting glares. "I suggest now you think on a name. A good strong school like that deserves a good strong name does it not? I shall look forward to hearing what you pick out."

* * *

 

"Don't you think they agreed too easily?" Merlin asked Slytherin that night. By now they had both made it back to York and were staying again in the house of Slytherin's acquaintance.

"Undoubtedly," said Slytherin, thinking hard. "They have some plan at work. They believe they shall be able to control these Governors in a way that shall disadvantage us. But I shall be two steps ahead of them. I will not let them manipulate us. Two can play at this game."

"It sounds as though you can handle it," observed Merlin. "For my part, I am just relieved they have consented. I'll leave the rest of the politics to you."

Slytherin nodded, looking strangely sad. "I feel that this is a mistake," he said heavily. "That one day, these Governors shall be used in corrupt and horrible ways. I am not sure it was a good idea."

"If you had not suggested it then the school may not even have opened," said Merlin. "All we can do now is make sure that the Governors aren't used for any political purpose."

"They will be though," said Slytherin, sighing. "I can guarantee it. Why must everything be so complex?"

"There would be no achievement worth boasting about if everything was easy," said Merlin.

Slytherin rolled his eyes. "I'll leave the boasting to Godric."

* * *

 

The next day, they began their journey back to the school. The entire trip had taken less time than they had expected. It was now even more apparently clear that Merrol had goaded them into heading south. He had wanted the school to open, he had had no intention to close it. He had known that the Founders would adamantly defend it and seek to compromise. They had played right into his hands.

But, it didn't bother him too much. Let him think he had won if he liked. Merlin and the Founders knew better. They wouldn't allow the presence of these Governors to interfere with their school in the slightest.

The journey back north seemed far more pleasant than before, now that weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Something had changed between the two of them as well. Slytherin was now far more likely to engage in idle conversation than before, and seemed less likely to scowl every time Merlin opened his mouth. It was a vast improvement.

Merlin was thrilled; he had filled both his purposes in coming here. He'd convinced the Wizards' Council to let the school open, and he'd gotten Salazar Slytherin to hate him less. Perhaps now he could finally get on with teaching them the magic he had arrived at the castle for.

One night, from as far as Merlin could tell, the last night before they would arrive back at the school, Slytherin broke the silence that usually accompanied their evening meal.

"What was that spell you used back in the Council chambers?"

Merlin looked up, surprised. "You saw that?"

"I saw you cast your eyes downwards, and a small flash of gold escape," Slytherin said. "I might have thought it only a trick of the light if I had not sensed the spell."

"I was erasing my name from their records," Merlin explained, pleased that Slytherin had sensed the spell.

"Why?"

"I prefer to work in secret," Merlin said. "I … don't like attention. I always cover my tracks."

"But why?" Slytherin asked him, frowning. "Why hide?"

Merlin laughed softly, though the truth was anything but funny. He wondered how best to answer it.

"I'm not meant for attention or fame," he said. "It's my job to lurk in the shadows until my time is near. I can help the four of you, but I want no one to know of my involvement."

"Why?"

"You're starting to sound like Rowena with all these questions," grumbled Merlin. He sighed. "I can't really explain it. All I know is that I must remain hidden until the time comes for me to come forwards."

"And how will you know when that time is?"

Merlin smiled. "I'll just know."

Slytherin was silent for a moment and Merlin thought this over. Would he know when the time was right? He knew that now was not the right time, some great force held him back from revealing his identity. He just had to trust the Old Religion would let him know when he could finally stop lying. With all this business with the Founders, he hoped it would be soon.

"You trust an awful lot in this Old Religion," said Slytherin casually. "I myself would not trust so blindly to something I could not fully understand."

"That is where we differ," said Merlin. "I have no choice."

Slytherin watched him curiously. "What is there that you need to hide from? Why are you so determined to remain unseen? Why would the Old Religion ask it of you?"

Merlin just smiled, and Slytherin frowned.

"You are a mystery," he said.

"I know," answered Merlin. "Rowena is determined to figure me out. But she never will. I keep my secrets close to my heart."

"Some would say that is unhealthy."

"Are you any different?" Merlin said back.

Slytherin shook his head. "No, I am not."

Slytherin sighed again. "I will not ask any more. You seem determined to keep this secret, whatever it is. I will never understand you, and if I am honest, I don't care to. I don't care about your personal life. I judge you for the here and now, not for whatever force you are running from."

Running from? Was he running from the Old Religion? Merlin didn't think so. He detested it sometimes for controlling his life like this, but he was committed to seeing it return. It was Camelot he was running from.

Slytherin looked back at him. "I sensed that spell you used," he said. "And in that place, I sensed all sorts of other magic. My senses seemed opened up. And you … it feels different around you now. Like the magic around me is awakening just by your very presence."

Merlin nodded. "The Old Religion inside of me is stirring it within yourself. You have begun to embrace it now, and now you are feeling it stronger."

"Who says I have embraced it?"

"You would not be feeling it so acutely if you had not," Merlin answered. "I have sensed it. It's been slowly growing ever since that incident with the refugees and that flame-freezing spell that you did. It has grown as your trust and faith in me has grown."

Slytherin raised an eyebrow. "My trust and faith in you?"

"Yes," said Merlin. "You hated me when we first met because of the circumstances in which we met and you found it too painful to look back. Now that you've accepted what happened, you hate me less, and the magic is becoming stronger. The Old Religion is now equally as strong in all four of you now."

"Is that so?" Slytherin asked. "Well, we'll soon have to remedy that. I must not allow Godric to overpower me even once or his head will never get any smaller."

Merlin laughed.

Slytherin cast him one last curious look. "The Old Religion," he said contemplatively. "It seems to me that only someone from the days of Camelot would be able to know anything of it … I don't suppose you will ever explain to me how you learned it?"

Merlin shook his head, unnerved by the too perceptive look in Slytherin's eye. "Think of it as part of the mystique."

Slytherin rolled his eyes, but said nothing, though the glances he shot Merlin every so often seemed to betray a new understanding, and Merlin almost worried that he had figured it out.

They spent the rest of the evening in companionable silence. Merlin was beginning to look forward to returning. He wondered whether Rowena had figured out Ancient Runes yet.

They rose early the next morning and set off, going at an easy pace. As before on Merlin's first journey to the school, he felt the presence of the school coming closer and closer, the magic in the air seeming to intensify with every mile that they crossed.

Before long, the castle itself was visible, standing proud over the lake, its many windows reflecting the midday sun. Merlin smiled as he looked at it. It was almost beginning to feel like home.

They rode through the gates and towards the directions of the stables. Merlin looked up at the great walls contemplatively. Although they had not been gone long, already the place felt different, as though the castle was continually growing in size and power.

They entered the castle and soon parted ways, Merlin heading up to his own quarters, weary with travelling, determined to just collapse on his bed and sleep for hours and hours. Tenga appeared out of nowhere, jabbering away excitedly at his return and took his things and cleared them away.

Merlin lay on top of the covers staring at the ceiling, but now that he was here, he didn't feel remotely tired. There was something about the castle that soothed him. It was infused with Old Magic. Although it wasn't as magically powerful as the old buildings Merlin had once known, there was more Old Magic here than he'd experienced in a long time, and it was a comforting presence. He could almost felt he could be happy here.

He closed his eyes and opened up his magical senses, letting them probe through the castle. He felt the magic in the very stones embrace him as he searched through the castle. There were the usual mass of house-elves congregated in the kitchens and scattered throughout the various halls; Slytherin seemed to be resting in his dungeon quarters; what he thought was Godric was speaking with some masons who were still working at the rear of the castle; Rowena, as usual, seemed to be in the library. But she was not alone.

Suddenly filled with new vigour, Merlin got up and left his room, heading in the direction of the library. When he arrived, he found Rowena and Helga sitting at a large wooden table in the centre of the room, surrounded by children all of all ages. Helga looked up as he approached and her smile broadened.

"Emrys!" she cried, her eyes sparkling. She got up from the table and hurried around to pull him into a quick embrace. "When did you return?"

"About an hour ago," he said, feeling much happier with her warm welcome.

"And how did you fare?" Rowena asked. She did not move from her spot at the table and was regarding him calmly, showing no outward sign or pleasure at his return.

"Better than expected," Merlin said. "But I shall wait to discuss it in detail with all four of you tonight at dinner," he said, motioning to the dozen or so children who were all staring at him.

Rowena nodded, and Helga looked curious. "All four of us?" she asked. "Does that mean Salazar will join us?"

Merlin smiled. "I think he might."

Helga's face lit up. "I hoped that the trip might settle things between you," she whispered. "Do you truly think he is recovered?"

"I do not think he will ever recover," said Merlin, "but he can now look at me without scowling, so I shall take that as a good sign. We discovered that the two of us actually work pretty well together."

Even Rowena looked impressed. She studied him carefully, not saying anything. Merlin turned to look at the children, who all jumped and looked away. One of the boys smiled at him, one who Merlin recognised as Conor, one of the children of the refugee group, who had alerted the Muggles to their presence by his inability to control his magic. The children ranged in age from about ten to fourteen, and he recognised a few familiar faces from the village.

Helga noticed his gaze. "Yes, Rowena decided to take your parting advice on board."

He raised his eyebrows. "She did?"

She frowned at him. "It was sensible advice, of course I would." She motioned to the children. "These children all come from the village, and their guardians have all consented to allow them to attend the school when it finally opens. Helga and I are teaching them to read and write, and I am teaching English to the ones who cannot speak it. We hope they will all be proficient when the proper teaching begins."

Merlin nodded, feeling a strange thrill of excitement as he looked around at all their young faces. The very first students …

"I have been sending messages by owl to several noble families that I am acquainted with," said Helga, resuming her seat. "All those with young children at least. A few have replied and said they would be interested in sending their children here as well."

"So far, we have twenty two students registered," said Rowena. "Of course, we hope to gain a few more, but we have to resign ourselves to the fact that the school will be pretty empty for its first few years until the word gets around."

"I think you may have little trouble now that the Wizards' Council is on board," said Merlin. "We may have more students that you'll be able to handle."

"I shall relish the challenge," said Rowena stiffly, glancing away from him, making Merlin chuckle.

He sat with them for a while, observing their teaching. Helga seemed a natural, engaging with the children with a smile on her face and making them feel at ease. He noticed the boy Tomin, who Elred and Hilda had adopted. He looked thrilled at being here, and focused intently on the words on the page before him, sounding them out silently and accurately; he was making far more progress than the others.

Rowena on the other hand was a stricter teacher. She wasn't unkind, but she wasn't as patient as Helga, and some of the children looked a little afraid of her. She almost seemed uncomfortable around young children, rather ironically since she was the only one in the room who was a parent herself. Merlin listened for the longest time, not only because he himself was taking the opportunity to learn more of her native language, but because he liked the sound of her voice when she spoke it. She sounded … freer almost, and less cold and reserved than when she spoke in English. He found that he liked the change in her.

As the day wore on, the children grew weary, and Helga sent for a few human servants and had them escorted back down to the village with a smile. He, Helga and Rowena watched them go, heading off into a slight flurry of snow, the last remnants of winter still resolutely hanging around, and then turned back and headed to the antechamber where a meal was prepared for them by the house-elves.

As Merlin had suspected, Salazar Slytherin had elected to join them for dinner this evening. He didn't speak much, but from what Merlin could gather, this was entirely normal for him. Others may have found him rude, but Helga was delighted he was back to his old self.

Godric arrived soon after and a broad grin broke out on his face at the sight of Merlin and Slytherin. But his jubilant attitude faded as talk over the dinner table turned to their meeting with the Wizards' Council. As Merlin had guessed, he was not very happy.

" _Governors?_ " he asked, outraged. "What a ridiculous term! We are not primitive peoples in need of governance by a superior power! It makes them sound far more powerful, it makes it sound as if  _they_  are in control! Why, if I'd been there I would have-"

"Yes, yes," said Slytherin. "We all know what ridiculously brave and reckless actions you would have taken, and how you would soon have found yourself locked in a jail cell. That is precisely why you sent Emrys and myself. The terms do not matter."

"Perhaps not to you," grumbled Godric, "but they make me seem a fool."

"Better a fool with a school, than a fool without one," countered Slytherin. "Swallow your pride, Godric. It will not matter in the long run."

"Can you assure me that there will be complete autonomy for the school?" Helga asked, looking from Slytherin to Merlin. "That we shall still be in charge, and these Governors will be regulators only?"

"I can," said Slytherin. "And if the Wizards' Council do not keep their word, and all six of their representatives are bigoted idiots, then all we must do is ensure that  _our_ six are close friends of ours who will do exactly as we say."

"Salazar!" said Helga, frowning. "You cannot fight corruption with corruption!"

"Yes, I can," said Slytherin, "it is the only way to move forwards in politics. It's a dirty business but I'm sure I can handle it. We cannot afford to be righteous. You may look the other way if you choose, Helga."

She sighed. "I suppose I must. For the sake of the students."

The meal passed in some more idle conversation, until talk turned to the students.

"Twenty two," said Helga, thinking hard. "We shall have to work hard to try and recruit some more or that Great Hall of ours will look rather empty."

"It won't matter, at this rate we won't ever be eating in it," said Rowena. "It  _still_  has no viable roof."

Merlin felt a strange sensation with in him as he remembered this. An idea struck him, and a sense of purpose spread through his body. Now was the moment he'd been waiting for since he'd entered the castle all those weeks ago.

"Come with me," he said, standing up from the table. Helga followed immediately, but the others were hesitant. "Come on," he urged, "I have an idea."

He left the room with Helga and headed towards the doors to the Great Hall, the other Founders following in curiosity.

He opened the doors and stepped into the vast room. It was just as impressive as the first time he had seen it. It was cold in here, and flurries of snow were drifting through the holes in the hastily put up wooden roof that threatened to cave in at any time.

Godric shivered and wrapped his arms around his body. "Why have you brought us here, Emrys? Do you honestly expect us to fix the roof now?"

Merlin turned and smiled at Helga who was standing in a line with her fellow Founders. "I think it's time you tried that spell of yours."

Helga grinned with excitement, but Rowena looked sceptical. "I thought that spell wouldn't work?"

"It will if all four of you do it," Merlin said. "The Old Religion … the four of you have now accepted its full power within yourselves. By combining your magic, you can do it, and make a roof so strong, and so beautiful it will last for a thousand years."

"But-"

"No interrupting," said Merlin, frowning at Rowena. "Just trust me. Trust each other. Trust yourselves. Your magic will combine to create something entirely unique."

They stared at him for a moment, Slytherin and Rowena looking the most sceptical, but slowly, they all nodded.

"What harm could it do?" shrugged Godric.

Merlin turned back to Helga. "You should begin."

Helga nodded, pulled out her wand and pointed it confidently towards the makeshift ceiling.  _"Aedificare fortis tecto. Ostende mihi caelum. Ostende mihi mundus extra. Ab omnibus tueatur nocet. Aedificare fortis tecto. Ostende mihi caelum. Ostende mihi mundus extra. Ab omnibus tueatur nocet._ "

She continued chanting with a strong voice as the others slowly pulled out their own wands and began to join her. Rowena still did not look convinced.

Their chanting grew ever louder and louder, and Merlin felt something, a tingling of ancient magic awaken in the room. They were using wands, they were even using a modern Latin spell, but the power there was unmistakable. He felt it almost bubbling away under his skin, filling him with life, with energy and with joy. But still, the roof remained plain.

"Embrace the magic," said Merlin, feeling the power rise up inside of himself. "Let it flow through your bodies, do not be afraid of it. Let yourself surrender to it, let that power into your spell."

Their combined voices grew louder, and the magic seemed to be bursting from his body. The room seemed to be shimmering with magic.

Finally, when Merlin thought he could no longer bear this build up of magic any longer, four golden jets of light issued from the wands of the Founders. They combined into one and went soaring up into the rafters and engulfed the roof in a golden mist that sparkled and shone with power.

The entire Hall was filled with light as the roof grew brighter and brighter, almost blinding them all. After what seemed like an age of this glorious light hanging above them all, it began to fade and reveal the roof beneath.

As one, the five of them gasped in astonishment.

The roof was gone, yet no so. It was there, barely visible, but concealed behind what looked like the night sky itself. The snow clouds from earlier were still issuing large flakes of snow, but as they fell, swirling down to below, they seemed to dissipate, fading into nothingness before they reached the people in the hall. In the gaps between the clouds the velvety black sky behind was clearly visible, and sprinkled across this were the light of many stars, twinkling far above them, casting their light down into the Hall.

It was literally as if the room opened up into the heavens above.

They all stood in dumbfounded amazement for a few moments. Then Helga squealed with delight and ran forwards and hugged Merlin tightly, catching him by surprise.

"We did it, Emrys!" she cried, looking delighted. "Our roof of clouds! We did it!"

"You certainly did," he said, hugging her back awkwardly.

Rowena stared upwards with wide eyes. "It's beautiful," she murmured, looking entranced. "I never thought it was possible."

"The wisest of us always keep an open mind," said Merlin to her. She turned to him, and she smiled, one of the few genuinely happy smiles he had seen from her. She looked back upwards, as though hardly daring to believe it.

Godric's booming laugh filled the room. "That'll show that Wizards' Council, won't it? That'll show them how powerful we are! I'd like to see these  _Governors_  do magic like that!"

Slytherin was also looking upwards, looking impressed.

"The Old Religion," he mused. "I never believed such great power could also come with such beauty."

"The world isn't always as ugly as we sometimes believe, Salazar," said Merlin, and Slytherin nodded. It took Merlin a few moments to realise that for the first time, Slytherin had not reprimanded him for using his first name.

He turned to all the Founders, still looking awestruck at the ceiling they had created. "You've passed the first test," he informed them, grinning widely. "I think you're all finally ready now to begin your studies in the Old Religion."


	18. Lessons

Tell me again why we are indulging in this ridiculous exercise?" Salazar asked, looking annoyed.

Merlin was equally as annoyed. "Because I said so, and as of now,  _I_  am _your_  teacher."

The five of them were seated in the Great Hall around a circular table, a few days after their return from London. Everyone seemed restless.

"I thought we were going to be learning the magic?" Rowena asked, frowning. "Why aren't we?"

"You are," sighed Merlin, resigning himself to explaining it all over again. "When … when King Arthur died and Merlin vanished, the Old Religion fell into decline. It still exists in the world but in a sort of hibernation. It runs through all living things, but it doesn't manifest itself in people as strongly as it used to. You four are the exception."

"For some reason, the Old Religion has granted you these powers, weak in comparison to that of the ancient sorcerers, yet still far more powerful than anyone in this century. The power is deep within you and manifests itself naturally within your spells. But I don't want you to use these modern spells. I want you to use the Old ones, yet still with a wand, combing the power of the Old with the New. In order to use these spells, you have to be able to access that magic deep within you and channel it successfully through your body."

He fixed them all with his best stern glare, the one he'd often used for his students in Camelot. "To do that, you must be able to fully sense this magic within you. You must be able to control it. This magic is incredibly powerful and could easily overwhelm you if you try to use it without the perfect control. You must take your time."

"I don't see how closing our eyes and sensing the magic within us is going to help," said Rowena.

"Then you don't understand how important this is and never will unless you listen to me," Merlin retorted. "I will not teach you any spells until I am certain you have complete control. Close your eyes and summon your magic to you. Focus clearly on it until you can feel it running through you as strongly as a river. You should be able to feel it directly under your fingertips."

Although sceptical, they all did as he asked, and were silent for a long time. Merlin followed their progress with his own magical senses. They were doing fairly well, but none were fully able to keep the magic completely under control and carefully measured.

Helga opened her eyes and sighed. "I shall never get the hang of it."

"Yes, you will," said Merlin. "You were destined to learn this. I know you will succeed."

"How do you do it?" Helga asked, a curious frown on her face. "If this magic is so powerful, how do you manage to control it so well?"

"I was born with this magic," said Merlin. "I don't have any problem controlling it whatsoever. But the four of you are different. And you'll be using wands, unlike me. Directing that much magic through a wand will be difficult, and might actually shatter the wand if you're not careful. This is new to me as well, you know, I've never taught anyone quite like this before."

He looked to Godric, who was unusually quiet. "What do you feel?"

Godric thought for a moment. "It's … it's like some great fire burning deep inside of me. Sometimes I can access it, and I can feel it burning in my veins, but at other times it's so wild that I can't do anything. I can't draw upon it all."

Merlin nodded. "It's a start."

"You mean we keep having to mediate like monks?" Godric asked, scowling. "I'm growing impatient."

Merlin refrained from rolling his eyes with difficulty. "Well, tough," he said. "You shall  _have_  to be patient. This  _will_  take time. It took me several years to hone my magical ability, and I doubt you shall be any different. The first time I tried using a wand I blew apart the building I was in because I was unprepared for the amount of control needed in a modern wand."

He thought for a second. "It's like riding a horse," he said. "You don't immediately ride off at full speed and continue all day, it would kill the horse. You need to start off slowly. When using these spells, you will need to gently ease into them, and build it up that way. And the best way to do this is to work on sensing this magic within you, to understand it before you try applying it practically. It will be worth it in the end."

Salazar nodded. "I can feel it," he said. "Building up inside of me. Slowly."

"Good," said Merlin. "We don't have much time to practice, but I want to meet at least once every day, all five of us. Working on control like this in a group will be much easier. I'll see you all separately as well. Everyone's magic is unique."

He leaned back and smiled. "I want you all proficient in this magic to at least a small degree before the school opens. In the meantime, I'm giving you some homework of your own. Practice this meditation. At all times; you need to be aware of this magic within you. It will improve both your reflexes and magical instincts. I won't risk having you use actual magic before you've mastered this."

Salazar and Rowena nodded, seemingly understanding of his instructions, but Godric and Helga looked doubtful.

The lessons were disbanded for the day, and Merlin found himself wandering around the lake again that afternoon, sorting through his thoughts. It was strange to be teaching again after so many years, but not unpleasant. It was entirely different from the way he had taught his students in Camelot, and the way he had taught himself.

Although controlling his magic came naturally to him, he'd had to teach it to his students in Camelot, and it had taken a while for them to master it. But they hadn't had wands. How much more difficult would it be?

He looked down at his own wand. It was made of wood from the trees on the Isle of the Blessed and a core of two dragon scales, one from Kilgharrah and one from Aithusa. He had had it made specially; only the Old Religion aspects of his wand allowed him to use magic. Even then, he still had to rein it in to stop from destroying the wand as he had with every other wand he had tried to use over the years. The Founders would need to be able to channel it through their own wands exceptionally carefully. It would take a lot of practice.

He was optimistic however. Somehow, deep inside, he knew that this would work. He could not wait to see it through. Finally, the Old Religion and he were making a difference in the world. He was no longer hiding away in the shadows as he usually did. He only hoped it would last.

* * *

 

One afternoon, he fished out an old book he had from Camelot, one filled with Old spells and enchantments. He magically replicated it and gave one each to the Founders.

"I want you to read them," said Merlin. "But don't attempt any of the spells just yet. You are nowhere near ready. But you need to understand the principles behind the spells before you use them. If you cannot understand the magic, you can have no hope of mastering it."

Rowena took the book from him greedily, as did Salazar. Helga flicked through it in interest, but Godric looked hesitant.

"Reading?" he asked, disappointed.

"Yes," Merlin said firmly. "You  _must_  understand this. It is vital."

Godric still looked unhappy, but he nodded and promised to study it.

Every evening now they were all sitting in the Great Hall in a sort of meditative state, each of them trying to connect with the magic inside of them. They were improving, but Merlin could see that each of their personalities was drastically affecting how successful they were.

Rowena was doing extremely well. She was patient, and seemed determined to be able to control her mind and her power, harnessing it extremely well, in the same way she seemed determined to contain all the knowledge of the books she had read. Salazar also was doing well. He did not complain about the methods Merlin was using, and instead implemented them to the fullest. He was taming the magic within him, controlling it with the same calm presence of mind he wielded in day to day life.

Godric and Helga however were a different story. Helga could control the magic, but it frightened her. She could access it, but it was so powerful she feared it would overwhelm her and she found herself continually drawing back. She was far too cautious and was more reluctant than the others to allow the magic to blend with herself. Godric on the other hand was the opposite; he wasn't careful enough. True to his impatient nature he failed to adequately grasp control of the magic, and seemed determined to leap straight in without thinking. The amount of waiting was severely trying his patience.

But Merlin was patient. He observed each of them carefully, allowing his own magic to reach out to sense theirs, and he was pleased with what he saw.

The days passed in much the same manner; Merlin would wake up, go for a walk around the lake, perhaps down to the village to visit Hilda and Elred, then he would help Helga and Rowena teach the village children before heading off with Godric and Salazar to help finalise the boundary wards of the castle and other matters in the grounds which could now be attended to with the fairer weather, and then spend a few hours with them teaching them Old Magic.

Merlin found himself settling into a routine, and he felt at peace in such a way he didn't often feel. He'd been frustrated and often downright bored over the centuries, feeling himself stuck in the same old routine, longing for something else, but this was different. This may have been routine, but it was all working for some greater purpose, something Merlin had not known in a long time.

Spring became more and more pronounced, with green buds appearing on the trees in the forest, wildflowers springing up along the path to the village and a whole new freshness enveloping the castle. And with it, Merlin felt his own magic be rejuvenated. He hadn't realised how much he had missed being a part of something.

Eventually, after a couple of weeks meditative control, Merlin decided the time was right to start using wands. Perhaps he had been overcautious in waiting so long, but he needed to be sure. He could afford no mistakes.

He gathered them all in the Great Hall, ready for the first attempt. He sat them down at the usual table and placed several candles before them. Godric watched him with poorly concealed excitement.

"Now," Merlin said, "I believe you are all familiar with your magic enough to try some actual magic. Don't be fooled, it won't be proper spells just yet. I'll teach you a few elementary spells with which to practice your control before you progress to large spells."

"Anything to start doing something productive," muttered Godric, but the others were waiting patiently.

Merlin turned to Rowena, who regarded him coolly. She had completely thrown herself into this project, and Merlin now only saw her during lessons. He had never before witnessed such drive to be the best.

"Rowena, I think, is the most accomplished at this," he said, noting the subtle glint of triumph in her blue eyes as he said this. "I would like her to try first."

As quick as a flash, Rowena's wand was in her hand, her expression eager. "What must I do?"

He motioned to the candles before her. "I want you to light them."

"Is that all?"

"Yes," he said. "This is an exercise of control. Using a fire spell takes extreme control because of its elementary and unpredictable nature. It is the perfect element to practice with. You need to feel the magic in the same way you have been doing this entire time. Then, beginning with a miniscule amount, I want you to begin to release it. Let the flow build up  _slowly_ , and the flame should be lit. The incantation is-"

" _Forbearnan,"_ said Rowena immediately. "It was in the book you gave me."

Godric looked at her disbelievingly. "You've memorised it already?

Rowena ignored him. "You said the magic may be difficult to control through my wand?"

"Yes," said Merlin, "which is why you must not get carried away. The energy used should be minimal. Keep in complete control. The amount of magic released will determine the height of the flame, the intensity, even the colour."

She nodded, taking all of this in. Her eyes were wild with anticipation, yet her wand hand was steady and her mind relaxed.

She stared at the candle before her for a long time, summoning the magic deep within her, taking her time. Then-

" _Forbearnan,"_  she said, her voice calm and controlled. Her eyes flashed golden.

Immediately, the candle before her sprung to life, flickering away brightly as if it had been burning for hours. A small smile crossed Rowena's face. Her eyes flashed again, and the flame grew higher and higher, and suddenly small again. She kept her eyes intently on it, and pointed her wand at another candle, performing the exact same procedure, slowly and carefully. Before long, all the candles on the table were burning brightly.

Everyone was silent. Merlin was stunned. He hadn't expected her to grasp it  _so_  quickly. Even his students in Camelot had taken longer than this!

"That was," began Merlin, staring in disbelief, "incredible."

Rowena smiled again, looking genuinely thrilled. Then she pointed her wand at the candles again. " _Feorb."_

The candles were all extinguished. Rowena fell back in her chair, breathing heavily, exhausted, but looking pleased with herself.

"I did it," she said, her eyes flashing with delight.

"How on earth did you do that?" Godric asked, staring at her eyes as if they were about to flash golden again any moment.

"Control," she replied. "Complete control. It almost seemed natural to me."

Merlin couldn't help but grin. Perhaps teaching them wouldn't be so difficult after all.

"I am confused on one point however," said Rowena. "Why do I feel so tired?"

"Your body is not used to this magic," Merlin said, "at least, not used to actually  _using_  it. The weariness will pass with time and practice. Soon, the spells you use will cause you no more fatigue than a Modern spell. Until then, you must be careful. Using too much of this magic at once without training your body how to handle it can be dangerous. Your body could wear out with the stress of it."

He had seen this happen before. One of his students had tried a spell too large for him and had ended up in a coma for a week while his body recovered. Although he had never heard of it happening before, Merlin was wary that one spell may exhaust them so much the body would give up entirely. He had to be cautious.

He turned to Salazar. "Let's see you try."

Salazar was good, but not as good as Rowena. He accessed and controlled the magic well, the magic seeming to blend with his wand seamlessly, and he lit several candles without issue. But then the fatigue caught up with him.

"Don't worry," said Merlin, feeling sympathy, even though he had never found such a simple exercise draining in his life. "It will become easier with time."

Salazar nodded, looking annoyed with himself nonetheless. He still fared better than Helga however.

Helga was now able to access her magic without fear and allow it through her body, but transferring it through her wand seemed to be proving difficult for her. Every time she tried, the wick of the candle would flicker feebly but stay unlit. She got more and more frustrated.

"Why can't I do it?" she asked, sighing, staring at the resolutely unburnt candle.

"You're holding it back too much," Merlin told her. "You're not letting enough power out."

"But I thought you said we had to use as little as possible, to build it up slowly?"

"Yes," he smiled. "But you have to release at least  _some_ of it. You're too afraid of losing control. Relax a little more, ease into it, trust your instincts. This is  _your_  magic, it will not fail you. It's all about a careful balance between releasing too much, and not enough."

Helga tried again and again for several minutes, before eventually lighting one candle. She sighed exasperatedly when she saw how feeble the flame was and raised her wand to try again.

"No," he said, stopping her. "You're getting too agitated about it. Don't try and use this magic when your emotions are out of control. It will make it easier to make a mistake."

Now, he turned to Godric, more than a little apprehensive; Godric was not one of the most patient of students.

"Now, you try."

* * *

 

Merlin tried not to scowl at Godric as Helga wrapped a bandage around his arm. It wasn't his fault, really, he should be more patient.

Then again, so should Godric.

Godric's attempt had been an unmitigated disaster. He hadn't prepared himself adequately, he hadn't exercised enough control, and subsequently, the magic he released had been far too much power all at once for that tiny strip of wood to handle. It had exploded, and a huge fireball had been sent whirling towards them all.

Thankfully, Merlin had excellent reflexes and had managed to raise a shield in time to protect everyone, but some if it had gotten through and his left arm was mildly burned. The table they had been sitting at was now a pile of firewood.

He tried not to feel to discouraged; it was only to be expected. He was the only one who had been injured, so there was no real harm done. Helga brought him to the new Hospital Wing she had only just finished and bandaged him up. Godric was sitting nearby looking absolutely miserable with a singed beard and robes. After making sure everyone hadn't been incinerated, Salazar had treated him to a barrage of gleeful teasing remarks, which Godric hadn't taken too well.

Helga smiled at him as she finished tying the bandage and began to clear away her potions. Merlin got up from the bed he was sitting on and sat beside Godric on another.

Godric glanced shiftily at him. "Sorry," he grunted.

"It's alright," said Merlin. "I should have taken more precautions."

Godric shook his head. "It's not your fault. I'm too impetuous, always have been. You told us what to do, and I didn't do it. It's just hard for me to sit still."

He sighed. "I'm not that much of a magical student," he admitted. "I love magic, truly I do. But sometimes, it frustrates me. Dueling with a sword seems more real, more tangible almost."

"You prefer simpler things," said Merlin, "there's nothing wrong with that."

Godric shook his head. "No, I suppose not." He glanced at Merlin's arm. "Are you still going to teach me?"

"Of course!" said Merlin. "I don't give up for something as small as this. Only," he said, suddenly, "I think we had better do it down in the dungeons now. We don't want that Hall destroyed now that we've just finished it."

Godric nodded happily. "Agreed." He stood up, looking a great deal more cheerful. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a bone to pick with that poltergeist. You know he actually put a live snake in my bed this morning?"

Merlin smiled. "Are you sure it wasn't Salazar?"

Godric shook his head. "Oh no, Sal isn't as obvious as that. It was that bloody poltergeist. I'm going to have to get him back."

"Why not just get rid of him?"

Godric looked at him as though he was insane. "Whatever for? Life will be infinitely more interesting with him around, won't it?"

And without another word, he turned and left.

Merlin sat there for a moment, smiling to himself. They'd hit a bump on the road certainly, but they would move on regardless. He had faith in these people.

He thought about Rowena and how easily she'd taken to the magic. He should have expected that; she never did anything by half-measures. She absorbed knowledge and learning like a sponge. Of course she was going to be excellent at it. His smile widened as he thought of her.

Helga moved over and sat beside him in Godric's spot, also smiling.

"A rather interesting start, is it not?" she asked him. "This is not an easy path. But the most difficult paths I often find are the most interesting."

He smiled back. "Yes, and don't worry. Your magic is powerful, I can sense it. The magic will come to you easily soon enough."

"I know," she said, "I can sense it somehow. But I do not have a mind like Rowena's."

"None of us do," said Merlin, smiling again.

Her gaze became a little too perceptive.

"You know," she said, her tone casual. "I have noticed a change in her since you arrived."

"Oh?"

"She's become far less distant," Helga said, "and far more open with her emotions."

Merlin laughed. "Really? Then I dread to think what she was like before I arrived."

"Some called her cold and reserved," Helga said. "She was always so in control of herself. But now … I think her mind is becoming far less concerned with book learning, and more curious and open. You have started that. You are good for her."

Helga placed a friendly hand on his arm. "And I think she is good for you as well."

"In what way?" Merlin asked, feeling uncomfortable with the knowing glance she was giving him.

"She distances herself from her past," Helga said, "and so do you. I think she will help you to realise just how much in common you have. Maybe then you can help each other."

Merlin was silent for a moment. It was true. Rowena had grown up in a place where she felt trapped, seeing knowledge to ease her loneliness. He had done the same, and his magic had been his one solace in a world that had forced him to live in the shadows.

The difference was, he'd helped her to see she was no longer trapped. But he was, and always would be until this immortality would end. He could help her, but he did not see how she could help him.

"We all think of Rowena as the wise one," said Merlin, smiling at her. "But perhaps you should have that title. You're perhaps the most intelligent of us all."

Helga laughed softly, and playfully pushed him. "Your flattery will get you nowhere. I am not greatly intelligent, and I am not especially brave or cunning, but I do not mind. I believe there are greater qualities to possess."

Then she grinned, a teasing look in her eye. "And besides, such a reputation would not suit me, I fear. After all, who could ever take the name 'Hufflepuff' seriously?"

Merlin laughed with her, and they sat for a long time, talking about everything from the new students to the house-elves and the new recipes they were brewing.

He went to his bed that evening in a thoroughly good mood, despite the mixed abilities demonstrated at the lesson. These people were his friends now, the first real friends he'd had since he left Camelot. He was lucky to have them.

He still felt the suppressed excitement as he thought of the magical abilities each of the Founders were displaying. There was so much potential there, and they had barely scratched the surface.

He thought of Rowena last, before he went to sleep, and the look of joy in her eyes when she accomplished that spell. He often said to her how knowledge wasn't everything, but perhaps he was too harsh. That joy had been one of the few genuine and unguarded emotions she had allowed him to see, and Merlin was overjoyed to see it.

He hoped he'd see more of it.


	19. The Final Governor

Teaching the four of them soon became something of a chore, yet a fulfilling one for him. Godric was out of action for a few days while a wandsmith in the village fashioned him a new wand using unicorn hair they had discovered in the forest hanging on a branch. Godric wasn't too thrilled by it however, claiming Ollivander's in London made far better wands. However, since Godric proceeded to break this wand and the next two that were made for him by this man, he was secretly grateful; Ollivander's wands were far too expensive and well made to risk like this.

Despite the shattered wands, and the shattered nerves of the wandsmith in the village, Godric was making progress, if not as fast as Rowena and Salazar who seemed to be taking to it as fish to water. Helga too was improving in confidence, and all four of them within a couple of weeks were able to light the candles, change their colour, make the flames whizz around the room, make shapes out of the flames of animals and birds, and snuff them out, all without feeling the slightest bit of fatigue.

Merlin was greatly encouraged; being able to control elemental magic like this was vital, and the same principles would soon be able to be applied to actual spells. Rowena was impatient. She seemed perfect at the magic, a little too perfect, and was eager to move on.

But Merlin ran through the exercises one last time with them one evening in the Great Hall. Their lessons until now had been in the dungeons until Godric had stopped blowing up wands. It had taken him a while to control the magic fully, and the one time he had managed it, he was so surprised he immediately lost control again and blasted a hole in the dungeon walls. Salazar had been furious.

He made each of them do the exercises one last time before sitting back and smiling.

"Brilliant, I cannot fault you."

"Great," said Godric, putting down his seventh wand. "Now can we do something more useful than lighting candles?"

"Godric," chided Helga. "Be patient."

"Yes, Godric," said Salazar. "Wouldn't want to go blasting any more holes in the castle before the first student even arrives do we?"

Godric scowled in his direction. "Watch it."

"Let's try a new spell," Merlin said. "Levitation. Levitate the candles using _flēogan_. Rowena, why don't you-"

"Why am I always last?" Godric asked, his mouth set in a frown below his bushy beard.

"Because you are entirely incompetent."

"Shut up, Salazar!"

"Fine," said Merlin, though secretly dreading it. "Why don't you go first?"

Godric nodded, looking smug. He lifted his wand and said: " _Flēogan!"_

The candle, much to Merlin's surprise shot straight up into the air and hovered several feet above the table. Merlin was just about to congratulate him when the candle turned over in midair and began plummeting like a stone.

Merlin flashed his eyes, deflecting it away from himself, and directly onto Rowena, whose robes caught fire.

She shrieked and leapt to her feet. Merlin jumped up ready to put out the flames, but Rowena beat him to it.

She pointed her wand at her robes and said, in a calm but urgent voice: " _Acwencan!_ "

Merlin watched in amazement as jets of water spouted out of her wand and quenched the flames on her dress. She looked up at Merlin and scowled.

"You did that deliberately!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes you did! How else can you explain how it missed you and came directly to me?"

"Oh, it can't be just because I'm a clumsy idiot, can it?" Merlin retorted. He was scowling back, his shock now vanished. "And what the hell was that?"

"What?"

"That!" Merlin said, pointing to the puddle of water on the table. Rowena didn't look at it, still glaring at Merlin.

"I taught myself some of the spells in the book you gave us."

"Taught yourself!" Merlin said. "You do have any idea how dangerous this magic is?"

"Well, you were taking too long!" Rowena protested. "I wasn't about to sit around all day and light candle after candle just because Godric was too thick to learn it properly."

"Oi!"

Merlin sighed. "This magic is unlike anything you've ever used before. You have to forget everything you know. You can't just storm ahead on your own. I should be there to guide you."

"I am perfectly capable of guiding myself," Rowena said, holding her head high. "Did you not also teach yourself?"

"Yes, but that was different."

"How?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

_Because when I taught myself, the Old Religion was strong and everywhere. Now it's harder to access, and far more dangerous to use._

"I knew my limits," said Merlin instead, though fully aware that this was a lie. "I didn't rush into things."

Rowena didn't look phased. "But you didn't stay stuck in the same spot for weeks either, did you?"

Merlin sighed. She had a point.

"Maybe you're right," Merlin said. "You all progress at different rates. I wanted you to learn control together, to take strength from each other, but now you've achieved that, perhaps I should teach you individually, and save the biggest spells for group sessions. Will that settle you?"

Rowena was quiet a moment. "Very well," she said, taking her seat again. "I look forward to it."

Merlin tried not to roll his eyes. She was a little  _too_  eager for knowledge.

Salazar had watched the entire exchange with an amused glint in his eye, but Helga wasn't even looking. She was staring up into the enchanted ceiling, a contemplative look on her face.

She looked down at a candle and pointed her wand at it. " _Flēogan."_

The flame on the candle rose up into the air, and she winced. "Oh, I forgot the candle."

She tried again and soon the candle, wax base and flame were both in the air. She watched it for a moment, an idea crossing her face.

"What are you thinking?" Merlin asked her curiously.

She jumped as he spoke to her. "Well, I was just …"

She bit her lip a moment. She cast the incantation once more. Another candle shuddered a little and rose wobbling into the air, higher and higher, right above the table. Then she kept it there, and turned her wand on another, making it rise to join the other two candles.

"Helga, what are you doing?" Godric asked.

"Just help me," Helga said, still concentrating on the spell.

Godric shrugged and attempted casting the spell again, this time with more success. Although confused, Salazar and Rowena soon did the same, the two of them casting the spell perfectly of course. Soon, all the twenty or so candles on the table were hovering in the air, flickering brightly against the night sky above.

Helga smiled, a little dreamily. "I like that."

"Like what?"

"The candles," she said. "I like the look of them floating like that. It's so mysterious looking, so beautiful, like they're stars in the sky. Think how wonderful it will look if the entire hall was filled with them."

Merlin looked up and appreciably nodded. He imagined the whole hall filled with floating candles. It would indeed look spectacular.

Rowena was frowning. "Floating candles above the student's heads? I'm not sure how safe that would be. What if one fell? Far better to have torches along the walls. The candles would serve no practical purpose."

Helga sighed and looked at her friend with an exasperated look on her face. "Don't you have a romantic bone in your body? Not everything needs to have a practical function."

"I like it," Godric said, nodding, though Merlin was certain this was just to get him into Helga's good books.

Rowena looked upwards again, a new look crossing her face.

"Very well," she said. "I admit … it does look impressive. But we'll have to use more creative means than this. We'll need spells on the candles so they don't burn down, spells so they won't drop burning wax on the heads of the people below, something to stop them becoming too hot or colliding together and-"

"We'll leave that in your capable hands, Rowena," said Salazar, interrupting her before she really got into her stride. "Now, can we resume the lesson?"

Merlin taught them several new spells that evening. Soon they had mastered several different forms of levitation, and, after another one of Godric's accidents, he decided it was best to teach them how to summon water, and how to control it. Helga seemed very proficient at this, and soon was making shapes of horses and other animals rise out of the swirling water that fell onto the floor. He also taught them how to make the water vanish, but that had proven a bad idea when Helga instead of vanishing the water, had instead made it rise up and fall on Merlin's head instead.

He didn't mind however. He was astounded at the progress they were all making, Godric included. It was far better than any of his students back in Camelot. Truly, they were destined to master this magic.

He kept to his word about teaching them all separately, and it seemed to go well. They had all now mastered the basic principles of the magic, and each of them wanted to manifest it in a certain way.

Godric of course was determined to know as much about combat magic as possible. He was eager and determined to learn as many jinxes, curses and attacks as he could. Merlin however, decided to take his time.

"Learn to shield yourself first," he said. "These Shield spells will be much more powerful than normal ones. Your reflexes and instincts will improve the more you learn. Shield spells are much more difficult, it will drain you of energy as long as you use it, so don't keep it up for too long. Use it for short sharp bursts. With time the length of time you can maintain your shield for will improve, and you'll be able to shield larger areas and deflect more than just minor curses."

Godric had nodded, taking it all in. Although not much of a student, he took dueling exceptionally seriously.

"How much power will I be able to deflect?"

"As much as needed," said Merlin. "The people you will fight against will be no match for you, even their strongest spell can be repelled with a full shield, as long as you cast it correctly."

"But surely not all spells?"

"Yes," said Merlin.

"Even the Killing Curse?"

Merlin paused for a moment, a chill running through him. This Curse was relatively new, and shocking in its power. It left the victim without a single mark, completely wiping the life from their body. Even Merlin's own spells were unable to kill someone without leaving a trace of  _some_  kind.

"I haven't been tested against it," said Merlin. "But … no Modern Magic is more powerful than me."

Godric watched him in awe for a few moments.

"But I wouldn't try it if I were you," said Merlin hurriedly. "My magic will always be more powerful than yours; I don't know if this new fusion of magic will be enough to counteract it."

"I hope I never have to find out," agreed Godric grimly, and they set to work doing Shield Charms.

They worked steadily every day in the Dueling chamber, working through all manner of techniques. They began by building up efficient shields, Merlin casting spell after spell at Godric, smashing through his shields until he managed to fend at least some of them off. He often complained at Merlin's methods, feeling humiliated every time Merlin sent him flying backwards and hard into a wall, but he persevered until his shields grew incredibly strong. Of course, Merlin could still easily break through them, but they would certainly be powerful enough for any ordinary modern sorcerer.

Then they progressed to the actual offensive magic, Merlin teaching him several useful spells for duels and fights ones he had used himself many a time. Godric threw himself into them every day with increasing vigour, never resting until he had perfected each and every one. They practiced dueling every day, and Godric became better and better, from lasting only two seconds in the first try, to posing an actual relative challenge for Merlin after several weeks.

Although he was often sulky and impatient when he couldn't perfect the spells right away, he was a cheerful enough student, and gave great booming laughs every time he managed to break through one of Merlin's shields (restrained of course to give him a fighting chance) and hit him with a new spell. His confidence grew day by day, and soon his fatigue began to leave him.

"Remember, though," Merlin said to him one day. "In a battle it will be different. Being in a stressful or tense situation like in the heat of a fight can alter your perceptions of control. If you don't remain calm and collected in a duel, you may very well lose control and injure yourself."

Godric had nodded, taking it very seriously, and Merlin wasn't too worried he'd get too carried away. Godric was an experienced fighter, and knew very well how important it was to have complete control of your senses during a fight.

As fun as the times he spent reaching Godric were, Merlin noticed an eternal underlying sense of sadness whenever he taught him. He reminded him forcibly of Arthur with his determination to be the very best. Merlin tried to ignore it, after all, it wasn't Godric's fault, but it just kept getting forced back into view. The reminders were almost impossible to escape.

Helga on the other hand, had absolutely no interest in learning how to duel, other than the very basics that she would need to defend herself if the need arose. No, she was far more interested in healing.

She wasn't as quick to grasp the magic as the others seemed to be, and required a lot more practice, but when she did, she was as competent as the rest of them. There was a plague in the village that spring, nothing as serious as the one that had hit Salazar's village the previous year, but enough for several villagers to come to the castle begging for their aid. Helga took them in and gave them room in her Hospital Wing, as well as villagers who injured themselves in everyday accidents, and there, Merlin taught her the magic.

He taught her so many spells, he was amazed she could remember them all, but she was determined to help as much as she could. He taught her spells to bring down fevers, how to fight infections and blood poisoning. He taught her how to keep people hydrated, how to diagnose illnesses through magic and how to kill pain. He showed her how to knit together broken bones, how to heal burns, lacerations and skin disorders.

As Gaius had taught him, he told her everything he knew about healing. And she relished the knowledge, her eyes lit with enthusiastic fire as she bustled around the ward with the sick villagers. Unlike some of the other spells, healing came naturally to her, and she had no problem with them at all. Merlin wondered at this.

"It's strange," he said one day. "You can barely keep a shield up for more than a few minutes during a duel, but you can cleanse a man's body of plague without batting an eyelid. Why?"

She had just smiled at him. "I'm not doing this for myself," she said. "These people are counting on me, and I must deliver. I must have the confidence to treat them, or they will die. I cannot afford to doubt myself or make mistakes. There is a job to be done."

He admired her all the more for this. Although she soon began to improve at other forms of Old Magic, she always fell back on healing, believing it to be the most worthy use of her magic. She didn't care about great power, she just wanted to help.

Salazar on the other hand was easily one of the most ambitious men Merlin had ever met. He seemed determined to master as many spells as he could. Despite their rocky start, Salazar seemed willing to forget all of this and just focus on improving his magic, believing it to be more important than just about anything. It was a remarkable turnaround for someone who had been so reluctant to start in the first place.

But Salazar seemed to be almost a different man, more like the one Godric and the others had described rather than the one Merlin had become used to, and he liked it. He was still often rather surly, and reserved, but underneath he was sly as a fox, with an often wicked sense of humour, which he used to great effect with the occasional Old Magic prank on Godric.

Unlike Godric who liked loud and powerful demonstrations of power, Salazar preferred the more subtle ones. He liked the more stealthy spells, such as invisibility. Merlin taught him many spells, like how to magically track someone, how to magically eavesdrop on important conversations (which as Salazar reminded him would have been helpful with the Wizards' Council) and other useful surveillance methods. He was particularly eager to set about disguising the school from outsiders.

Although Anti-Muggle charms had been cast all over the school, Salazar wanted to leave nothing to chance. They worked out a spell that would make the castle appear as a ruin to those who stumbled across it accidentally. They also created a spell to prevent someone from Apparating into the school, although this was unlikely since Apparition was still rarely used amongst wizards. Merlin's Transportation spell was unaffected however, but he chose not to mention this. He also taught Salazar ways in which to conceal rooms and other parts of the building and change their location, though Merlin was unsure why he wanted this.

Salazar just smiled when Merlin asked him why, after he cast a spell over a perfectly ordinary door. "The corridor will change," he said. "It may move around like Rowena's staircases, or it may simply lead somewhere different on a Friday. Entire rooms can shift about, becoming invisible and then reappear when needed. I want the school to be versatile. Perhaps one day we will be in need of more bedrooms, perhaps one day the library will need to be extended or we won't need as many classrooms. When that occurs I want the school itself to move around, to hide these rooms when not needed, keeping them stored away until they are needed again."

"You're thinking ahead."

"It is only logical" said Salazar. "The school will be like a living entity. It will adapt to the need of the students."

It was certainly ambitious, but Merlin had come to expect that from Salazar. He really knew no bounds. But one other aspect of magic intrigued him.

"What do you know of Legilimancy?" he asked him one day during a private lesson.

Merlin thought for a moment. "I have heard of it, but I have never studied it."

Salazar nodded. "My father was an excellent Legilimens," he said. "And I practiced as a child, but since both he and my uncle perished I have fallen out of the habit. I was hoping you would know something of it."

Merlin studied him carefully. "And why do you want to learn to read the minds of others?"

"Not to read them," said Salazar. "I wish to be able to tell when someone is lying, to extract the truth from their minds. With all this bother with the Wizards' Council it will come in useful."

"Yes," said Merlin, though still a little curious. "Well, I have abilities like Legilimancy of my own, perhaps I may be able to help you."

And for a while they practiced that, though Merlin was still unsure about Salazar's motives. Merlin didn't know much about Legilimancy but he soon learned. Soon the two of them were teaching each other, with Merlin letting Salazar practice defending his mind using some techniques from the Old Religion. Salazar wanted to practice trying to enter minds as well, but Merlin refused to let him experiment on him. He did not want Salazar to learn this ability, partly because he found it intrusive, but also because he feared what Salazar may discover about his true identity if he entered his mind. Salazar had been suspicious, knowing that Merlin was concealing something great, but dropped the issue, knowing when he was defeated.

Even though lessons were sometimes tense with Salazar, they were nothing to what they were with Rowena. She was still as determined as ever to rush ahead and learn as much of everything as she could. Merlin tried to warn her about being careful with the speed she was going at, but all his warnings seemed meaningless as she learned spell after spell without difficulty. He was frankly amazed by her ability.

Although she wanted to know  _everything_  about everything, Rowena seemed to enjoy charm work more than anything. She learned dozens of spells that she applied to the school wards, improving them against attack, building them up again and again until Merlin doubted whether even he could have made them any stronger. She improved her moving staircases, designed trick steps that would fool students and encourage them to think ahead. She was a force to be reckoned with, and Merlin was often wary of how determined she was to be perfect.

He worked steadily with the Founders every day, feeling himself grow ever more exhausted, yet satisfied. With these lessons, and the ones that Helga and Rowena ran for the village children, Merlin was astonished to discover he had been at the castle for several months. It was now midway through June and spring had begun to fade into summer. The Giant Squid was now often visible basking in the shallows of the lake in the sun, though conveniently never within the sight of Rowena, who still doubted its existence.

As the Founders grew in power, and the day of the school's opening drew ever nearer, Godric called a meeting in the Great Hall.

He looked around at them all, unusually serious.

"Now," he began, "we must make our final decisions about these  _Governors."_

He withdrew a letter from his robes and shook it open.

"The Wizards' Council has sent me this list of their own six," he said, reading through it. "About half of them are bigoted idiots whom I detest, but the other half I know of by reputation as being strict, but fair. I think we've gotten off lightly on this. So, now it is time to appoint our own six. How many have requested the positions and how many of them will we accept?"

"I still think Lord Farrall Abbot would make an excellent Governor," said Helga. "He is fair and he is kind. He sympathises with our plight and has already consented to send his own son here."

"All in agreement?"

There were a few murmured yeses, though Merlin did not vote since he didn't have a clue who this man was.

"I think Lady Silena Flint," said Rowena. "She is intelligent."

"But she harbours no love for Muggle-Borns."

"But no hatred either," Rowena reminded them. "She can be trusted to make fair and balanced decisions. Is there anyone who disagrees?"

No one did.

"Now, that's two members of the Anglo-Saxon nobility," said Godric. "Who else?"

"Saul Weathercroft," said Salazar. "He is the Chief of a clan of wizards not far from here. I think he would make an excellent choice."

"Agreed, anyone else?"

"Lillias Greenwood," suggested Helga. "She's a Celt of unending generosity. She has helped me rescue several Muggle-Borns before. I trust her."

"Very well. I myself would put forward Lucretius Farrendorf," said Godric. "He's a good man."

"Isn't he a cousin of yours?" Helga asked suspiciously.

"Well, yes," said Godric, a little uncomfortable. "But he's fair and wise."

"A relative of yours? Wise?" Salazar asked, his eyebrows raised and a teasing look in his eye.

"Don't be so childish," said Rowena archly. "May I remind you Salazar, that you are  _also_ related to Godric?"

Salazar's look of amusement slid off his face immediately. "Only distantly," he grumbled.

Godric ignored him. "Lucretius it is then. Now for our final place."

He glanced at his fellow Founders, and then turned to Merlin.

"Why don't you fill it, Emrys?"

"Me?" Merlin spluttered, going a little red. "Why me?"

"We trust you," smiled Helga. "You know how we work and you have invested a great deal into this school. If you refuse to let yourself be recognised as the fifth Founder, then let us do this much at least."

"You are intelligent," said Rowena almost grudgingly, looking anywhere else but at him. "You would do well in the role."

For a long moment, Merlin actually considered it. He could help a great deal by becoming one of the Governors. It would take a lot of effort to work alongside these bigoted maniacs, and he knew he would be able to handle it.

But then he doubts crept in. This would be an incredibly visible position of authority. It was official, it would be documented, he would unable to remain hidden. He couldn't come forward like this, not yet anyway, not until he was sure that these Founders were the ones destined to bring the Old Religion back to the world and end his immortality. He'd be in the public eye; how could he maintain that if one hundred years from now he looked exactly the same as he did now?

It was with a heavy heart then that he turned to the Founders and shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I cannot. But," he said, struck with a sudden idea. "There is someone I have in mind."

* * *

 

The next afternoon, Merlin sat again with Helga and Rowena as they taught the village children. They were coming on in leaps and bounds, delighted to be in a place filled with laughter and kindness rather than the harsh streets some of them had grown up on. They even got a hearty lunch at the castle courtesy of the all-too-eager house-elves, which was likely the only substantial meal they ever got.

Helena Ravenclaw usually joined them now. She was still perhaps too young to be learning how to read with Helga and the other children, but she loved just looking at the words on the page and the beautiful illustrations. She was as eager to get her hands on a book as her mother was.

Merlin waited until the lesson was over, and moved over to talk to one of the boys Helga was teaching.

"Tomin!" he said, smiling. "Well done. You read that entire page by yourself. Not bad!"

Tomin blushed at his praise and looked away awkwardly, though he looked thrilled.

"Listen," Merlin said, "I want to talk to Elred. Do you mind if I walk down to the village with you?"

Tomin shook his head, apparently still too shy to talk to Merlin.

"Can I come?" Helena asked, tugging at his robes. "I want to see another unicorn!"

Merlin had occasionally run into Helena and her nanny during his early morning walks, and just a week ago, they had seen the silvery animal passing through the trees. Helena had been delighted and tried to run after it, but Scáthach pulled her back haughtily and stormed off to the castle. She no longer spoke in front of Merlin, not since she had discovered that he now understood her language.

Merlin turned to Rowena who was packing up some things. He noted with concern that she looked more tired than usual. She sighed and looked at the desperate face of her daughter.

"Very well," she said. "But don't let her get too overexcited and bring her back before dark."

Helena grinned and hugged her mother's knees and ran straight back to Merlin's side. Tomin looked a little alarmed by the girl's enthusiasm.

Soon, Merlin, Helena, Tomin and the other children were heading off on the path down to the village. Helena walked by Merlin's side looking eagerly into the trees for another sight of the unicorn. Merlin knew better to than to get her hopes up; these children were making such a racket no animal would dare come near them, let alone one as shy as a unicorn.

As they entered the village the children dispersed to their various homes, and Merlin, Tomin and Helena headed straight to the home of Elred and Hilda. By now their draper's business was making a fair bit of money, and they had begun to improve their home, which at first had been nothing more than a glorified shack. Merlin had assisted with a few spells here and there, but it had largely been all Elred's own work.

Tomin went straight in and Merlin followed, leading Helena by the hand. She was looking around curiously; she had spent all her childhood in the castle, she had never been in house this small before.

Hilda saw them both and greeted Merlin with a warm smile and a hug, reprimanding him for staying away for so long. He apologised, he had just been far too busy with all the teaching he was doing. Hilda beamed down at Helena.

"And who do we have here?"

Helena suddenly became uncharacteristically shy, and partially hid herself behind Merlin's legs.

"Helena," she mumbled, but so indistinctly all that came out was ' … lena".

Merlin laughed. "I've never seen her so quiet. This is Helena Ravenclaw."

Hilda's eyes widened. "Is that so? Well, you've got a very admirable mother, child, and I'm certain you're just the same. Would you like to help me with the baking?"

Helena's eyes went wide. "Like what the house-elves do? I can do that?"

Hilda chuckled. "Well, I'm sure I won't be as good as these house-elves as yours, but it'll be far more fun. Come on."

So Helena, dressed in an old worn apron stood on a chair beside Hilda at the table, helping knead dough and mix flour and eggs. She constantly got flour on her nose and egg all over her fingers, but she looked like she was having a load of fun. Soon she was babbling away as she always did. Tomin slid off into a corner of the room and pulled out a book that Helga had given him to practice with and began muttering to himself as he tried to decipher it.

"Has he still said nothing about where he came from?" Merlin asked Hilda, gesturing towards the boy.

"No," she sighed. "He just won't talk about it, not even to Elred. He's so intent on his education. It's all that drives him."

Merlin nodded. Tomin was by far the best student of Helga's. What horrors had he witnessed that made him so eager to rid himself of his past and begin afresh?

Helena and Hilda continued baking the rest of the afternoon until Elred came back in from his stall in the main street, greeting Merlin enthusiastically. Hilda bustled over and distributed steaming bowls of soup to everyone for the evening meal, each with a roll of bread that Helena and she had baked earlier, the ones Helena had made with several distinct fingerprints in them.

They talked for a while, Merlin being filled in on what was going on in the village. Finally, Elred pushed his plate back and looked at Merlin seriously.

"You came here to discuss something with us," he said, "what?"

Merlin smiled, seeing the man was not easily fooled, that only reassured him of what he was doing was right.

"I told you last time about these Governors the Wizards' Council is insisting the school has?" he said. Hilda and Elred nodded.

"Yes, but what has that to do with us?"

"We have appointed five of our lot of Governors," he said, "and there is one spot left. I was wondering whether one of the two of you would like to fill it?"

They both starred at him in shock for a moment.

"You cannot be serious?" Elred said, his eyes wide.

"One of us?" Hilda asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," he smiled. "Why not? It wouldn't distract you from your work since it's only on a part-time basis, and you'd be involved in a whole lot of aspects of the school, not in the least making sure those bigots sent by the Wizards' Council don't get their way about denying entry to Muggle-Borns."

They glanced at each other. "But," began Elred. "We don't have any right. I'm just a simple, uneducated man. I can't even read! What use could I be?"

"More than you realise," said Merlin seriously. "A man who knows his letters is not superior to a man who does not. You are both wise and generous human beings. I think you would be perfect."

"But to sit and discuss things with rich Lords and Ladies," said Hilda, "what could we say to them? We wouldn't know how to act around them."

"My mother is a rich Lady," said Helena, wiping up the last of her stew with her roll. "You can talk to me."

"You're a child, deary," said Hilda. "These people will be very grand and educated. They probably know much more than we do."

"True," said Merlin. "They can all speak several languages, they can name stars, write poetry, name every type of plant and know how to attend banquets and wear rich clothes. But you two have  _real_ knowledge. You know how to survive, you know firsthand the cruelty of this world in a way they won't. You know of these injustices and you want to stop them. You may not be great book learners, but you have good common sense, which I have found is often lacking in the nobility. Please, consider it."

Hilda and Elred both looked doubtful for a few moments.

"Do it, please," said a voice from the corner.

Tomin was standing there clutching his book, looking nervous but determined all the same to speak up. "Do it," he said again to Elred. "You understand what it's like. You can stop them hating Muggle-Borns. You can make a difference. Please … you're the kindest people I've ever known. I want the school to have people like you running it."

Merlin's grin slowly broadened as Tomin spoke. He knew he would make a fine student come autumn.

Elred sighed, and glanced once more at his wife, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

He turned back to Merlin, and he nodded.

"Alright then, I'll do it."

Merlin couldn't keep the grin off his face all the way back to the castle. Everything was coming together now.


	20. An Incident by the Lake

The rest of June soon wore onto July, and Merlin found himself increasingly busy. Not only did he have the Founders to teach, but as the school's opening day approached, more and more preparations needed to be made.

Owls began arriving at the school informing the Founders of the families who would be sending their children to the school. Of course, these were all noble families who had heard of the school through the Wizards' Council, but Helga also had some of her old friends going around Muggle villages looking for signs of magical children who would like to come. Soon, the tally stood at one hundred students, which made Merlin feel more than a little alarmed. How would so many magically unpredictable students manage to live peacefully in the castle like this?

He assisted Helga and the elves with a lot of the housekeeping work, sorting out dormitories and the like, more than qualified after years in Camelot of sorting out quarters for the constant stream of royal and noble guests to the castle.

"I want each House to have a separate dormitory," said Helga to him as they sorted through endless piles of linen. "They'll be entirely separate and focus around a common room. When myself and the others eventually leave the school, our quarters shall become the common rooms, but until that time, other quarters shall have to do."

She whipped out her wand and started repairing the moth holes in the linen; a spell Merlin had often used in his servant days in Camelot.

"We want seven different years," she said. "First year being for those of eleven years old, then progressing up the way. But I don't think this will work all at once. The Pure-Blooded children will have had some training from their parents, and may settle in well to the appropriate year for their age, but the Muggle-Born children certainly won't. I think the best thing to do would be to evaluate their magical ability as soon as they arrive and slot them into the appropriate years. This may make it a little uneven for the first few years, but as word spreads about the school, soon all eleven year old children will begin attending, and they will all be at the same magical ability at the same age."

"Sounds good," said Merlin. "And have you worked out how you shall go about Sorting them into these Houses?"

Helga nodded. "We shall watch them," she said. "All of us shall be taking classes, and we shall get to know them, learn more about their personalities and their prominent traits. Then we would host the Sorting Ceremony at Hallowe'en, two months into term. Then each of us would claim for our House the students we think would fit best."

Merlin nodded, but he was doubtful. "Do you think two months is enough time to gauge their character?"

"No," said Helga, "but I see no other choice. Salazar keeps talking about some form of Legilimancy which would look into their minds and we'd be able to  _see_  their true character, but it seems a little intrusive to me."

"Yes," agreed Merlin, thinking hard. "But the principle is sound; you can't always judge someone's true character by just watching them. If we were to tweak the idea a little …"

He trailed off, completely at a loss. Helga smiled. "I'm sure we'll come up with a better method in the future. But until then …"

There wasn't often much time for talking. When he wasn't helping set up bedrooms, he was putting furniture into classrooms, books Rowena had ordered from far off lands into the library, medicines in the Hospital Wing … he hadn't realised just how much a school needed.

The castle began to feel much cosier during these weeks, as it became far more personalised with all these artefacts. Rugs covered the stone floors, tapestries covered the walls and suits of armour filled the corridors. But best of all, was the paintings.

Merlin had heard of the new magical paintings that had been created in recent centuries, but he had never seen one, so accustomed was he to hiding in Muggle dwellings. So when the first ones began to arrive, he was mesmerised.

They came from Godric and Helga's ancestral homes, and were exquisitely beautiful, showing nature scenes that had animals cantering off into a dewy sunrise, occupants who actually spoke to you and offered advice, and scenes of adventure and romance.

But, one painting in particular caught his eye. It was of Camelot.

He stared at it for many hours after Godric had hung it up casually and without a backwards glance. It was perfectly accurate, rather than those ridiculous ones back in London, and Merlin found himself lost inside it. It was old, and not that detailed, but he could tell what it was. It made his heart both joyful and heavy at the same time.

That had once been his home. And now this place was proving to be the only home he had had since.

Just when Merlin thought he was going to collapse under the weight of the pillows, textbooks and quills he was constantly lugging around the castle he decided the lot of them should take a break.

The five of them including Helena, spent one day in mid-July by the side of the lake, enjoying a meal the house-elves had prepared for them, lounging on the grass in the hot sun, relaxing for the first time in weeks.

"This will be the last rest we get for months," said Salazar, leaning against a tree with his eyes closed. "Those children will keep up so occupied we won't have a moment of peace to ourselves."

"Well what did you expect when you decided to help start a school?" asked Helga. "Don't you like children?"

"Not particularly."

"Then why are you here?"

"I like the idea of a school," said Salazar, "and I like the idea of educating people to live more peacefully together. But I find children irritating."

Helena's jaw dropped open and she gasped loudly. Salazar opened his eyes.

"Except you of course, Helena. I like you."

Helena looked pleased. "Good, I like you too, Uncle Salazar."

Salazar rolled his eyes at being called that, but he seemed resigned to it. Merlin wondered vaguely how long it would be before Helena started calling him 'Uncle Emrys'. He was sure it would far too awkward for him to handle.

Helena stood up and started running down to the lake and the stony beach. Rowena watched her carefully. "Don't go too far!"

"I won't!" Helena promised, even as she got further and further away.

Rowena sighed. "She has a mind of her own."

"Like her mother," Merlin said pointedly.

Rowena met his eyes and frowned, choosing to ignore him and go back to her book. He watched her for a moment. Although they were all more worn down than usual, she seemed even more tired than the rest of them as though something was on her mind. He resolved to ask her about it as soon as possible. Perhaps storming ahead with the Old Magic was catching up with her already?

Godric stretched out on the grass, admiring the new wand he had ordered from Ollivander in London, now that he was certain he would no longer be at risk from shattering it. Moltres the phoenix was by his side. He hadn't often been around the previous months, vanishing for weeks at a time before returning, but he had come back and offered Godric a feather to send to Ollivander to include in the wand. Merlin was glad of this; to have a core from the Old Religion would certainly help Godric with the Old Magic.

Helga was sitting looking over the lake, absentmindedly picking daisies and entwining them together. There was a smile on her face.

"It really is beautiful here," she said, watching the sun glint off the shining waters of the lake. A small breeze met them, keeping them cool and refreshed. It was a lazy afternoon and Merlin felt himself relaxing for the first time in weeks.

He stretched out himself and listened to the sound of the breeze in the trees and the sound of Helena playing down by the lake. Could it get any better than this?

Suddenly, he heard Helena scream.

Immediately, all four Founders were on their feet, wands drawn and ready for action. Rowena cast about in sudden alarm. "Helena!"

She came running from around bend by the lake, her face frantic. She ran straight into her mother's arms.

"It's a monster!" she wailed. "A big black monster!"

Rowena held her tightly and glared at Godric over her head. "Haven't I told you to stop filling her head with all this nonsense about monsters in the lake?"

Godric shrugged, but Helena started shaking her head frantically.

"No, it wasn't in the lake! It was on the beach! It's a big, black monster! With wings!"

 _Wings?_  Merlin thought to himself. The Giant Squid didn't have wings. Black … wings … a sudden horror gripped him.

He wheeled around to Salazar and Godric who both seemed to have realised what it was Helena had seen.

Godric immediately drew both his sword and his wand and headed off to the part of the lake Helena had just been, the rest following, Rowena carrying Helena tightly in her arms. Merlin ran faster than the rest of them. If it was what he thought it was …

He rounded the corner and stopped dead, dread coursing through every inch of his body. On the shore of the lake, curled up and apparently asleep was a massive dragon. It had rough, black scales, and was most likely about thirty feet in length if it stretched out. There was a line of shallow but razor-sharp ridges along its back and its tail was tipped by an arrow-shaped spike. It looked particularly nasty, and Merlin was thankful it was asleep, breathing out clouds of smoke from its large nostrils.

It was a Hebridean Black, one of the nastier dragon breeds Merlin had come across. He stood for a moment lost in reminisces. Kilgharrah and Aithusa had long believed they were the last of the dragons, but about a century after the fall of Camelot, these giant lizards had flown from across the sea and covered the length of Britain. But they weren't true dragons. They didn't have the intelligence and wisdom of the Ancient race. They had long forgotten it, if they ever had it in the first place.

They were little more than animals, with any wisdom or cunning hidden deep beneath their primal natures, as though hibernating. Merlin had tried to use his Dragonlord abilities on them before, but was met with limited success. These dragons … they didn't seem to recognise his power. Merlin was able to command the Old dragons because he recognised them as his kin, his spiritual brothers, but these modern dragons … he just did not understand them.

Sometimes, every so often they would listen to him. Something deep within them would recognise him for what he was, and they would bow to his authority, but these instances became rarer and rarer as they forgot more and more of their ancient past.

His heart raced. Would this dragon listen to him?

Godric stared at it, oddly, not frightened. Instead, he seemed to be grinning.

"A dragon!" he called in a hoarse whisper. "An actual dragon right on our doorstep!"

"We must leave!" Rowena said, holding her hand over her daughter's mouth in case she made some sound that would wake it up. "We must leave!"

"Leave?" Godric asked her. "What good would that do? It's asleep! It won't harm us! I for one would like a closer look."

"Godric, are you seriously as thick as you look?" Salazar hissed. "The thing must be driven off!"

Godric chuckled quietly. "The beast is fast asleep!"

"And what if it wakes up?" Helga asked in a fearful tone. "Stay away from it, Godric!"

Godric grinned at her, and seemed to get an idea. He looked back at the dragon. "I bet you I can get close enough to touch it!"

"Godric, no!"

"Are you insane?!"

"No!"

But Godric would not listen. He grinned back at Helga, making sure she was watching as though he was determined to impress her and edged closer to the sleeping dragon.

Merlin cursed inwardly; what did the great fool think he was doing? Was he really this reckless?

He tried to think of a spell to bring him back and lifted his hand in readiness, but stopped himself; he did not want to risk waking the creature. He was not sure his ability as a Dragonlord could handle it. He shifted on the spot feeling helpless. He had to help Godric! He couldn't risk losing him like he'd lost Arthur!

Godric inched closer and closer to the dragon. Each of them held their breath in suspense, not even bothering to call him back now, too anxious to see what would happen next. Subconsciously, Rowena covered Helena's eyes with her hand.

As soon as Godric was just three feet away, he slowly bent to the ground and seized a giant branch from the ground and …  _started poking the dragon._

If Merlin had not seen it with his own eyes, he would not have believed someone could be that stupid.

For a second, it seemed that everything would be fine, and Godric would come back to them unscathed. Then, one giant brilliantly purple eye opened.

What happened next was over so fast that looking back on it Merlin was never quite sure what had happened. The dragon had leaped to its feet and unfolded its bat-like wings and roared so loudly Merlin was sure the Wizards' Council would have heard it all the way in London. Helena screamed and Rowena ran, dragging Helena with her. Salazar had begun to retreat also, but Helga had run forwards, drawing her wand in her quest to help Godric.

The next thing Merlin knew, Godric was running away, his hair singed and his beard almost completely burnt off, Helga and Salazar running at his side, futilely throwing spell after spell behind them, none so much as mildly hurting the dragon. It reared and sent great flames towards them and they all fled around the bend of the lake, Godric's hastily summoned Old Religion shield protecting them all from the inferno.

Merlin had then found himself standing alone before the beast, and shouting with all his might: " _O_ _drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes_ _!"_

The dragon had ignored him, and came towards him eying him greedily.

He tried again. Nothing. Merlin could have sworn it was now licking its lips.

He tried one last time.

This time, something happened. The dragon stopped coming towards him, and sat back on its powerful legs, looking almost confused. It watched him for several minutes as if deciding whether to eat him or bow to him. Merlin stared back challengingly even though his heart raced so hard it was one monotonous beat.

Then, after an age of waiting, the dragon seemed to give up. It gave one last piteous roar, and leapt into the air, flapping its great wings and soon was no more than a black speck in the sky.

Merlin heaved a massive sigh of relief. It looked like he still had it. If only just.

He turned to leave, a little shaky on his legs and headed back to where they had been sitting relaxing just a few moments ago. The others were there regrouping, and they looked up in alarm and worry when they saw him approaching.

"Is it gone?" Helga asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes," he breathed. "I managed to drive it off."

The others breathed in relief, but Rowena frowned. "How?"

He smiled secretively at her. "That would be telling."

He sat down with them, not sure why he wasn't revealing that he was also a Dragonlord. It just seemed something he should keep to himself. And besides, he didn't want to risk it. He wasn't sure if any of the old legends recorded this ability, or that Merlin had been the last of the Dragonlords.

"But how did you manage it?" Godric asked eagerly. "I've never known a man be able to drive off a fully-grown dragon on his own like that!"

"You've never known a sorcerer of the Old Religion before," Merlin answered.

"But how-"

"Does it matter?" Merlin asked. "It's gone and it won't be coming back."

Godric frowned, and exchanged a curious look with Salazar, who also looked intrigued and slightly suspicious. Thankfully though, they seemed to think better of continuing to interrogate him.

He looked around at them; Rowena was still holding tightly onto Helena, and Helga was tending to Godric who was sitting there still white and shaking.

"Are you alright?" Merlin asked him.

He nodded. "Yes … just ... just" he looked at his reflection in the lake. "My beard! It's been burnt completely off!"

Godric looked so outraged, so violated and so ridiculous with his beard burnt off, Merlin found his composure breaking. He was trying with all his might not to laugh.

Salazar however had no such reservations. He fell back on the ground laughing so freely, so openly and so joyfully Merlin could see no trace of the tortured and haunted young man of just a few months ago. He had never seen him this happy. He'd never heard him laugh like this.

Merlin began to laugh as well, half in joy at Salazar's lack of his usual inhibitions, and half at Godric's singed hair and beard. Helga, now that the danger had passed, seemed to be struggling to withhold her laughter too. She started tending to the mild burns on Godric's arm and face, but soon her shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

Godric looked between the three of them, his expression hurt and embarrassed. Then, he looked at his reflection once more. He too began to chuckle.

"Wasn't one of my brighter ideas," he murmured through his chuckles.

"No, certainly not," Salazar breathed, struggling to speak through his own laughter. His emerald eyes, usually so cold, were twinkling in amusement.

The laughing continued, such was their relief at escaping and their amusement at Godric's predicament. Helena began laughing too, but Merlin could see from her expression she was still a little frightened. Rowena on the other hand stared at them all as though they were mad, rolled her eyes at their stupidity and turned back to her book, determined to ignore them all.

It took a while for their hilarity to subside, and when it did they all sat by the lake again breathing quiet sighs of relief and contentment. Salazar turned to Merlin, his curious expression returning.

"How  _did_  you drive that dragon off?"

Merlin hesitated, unwilling to return to the issue he had been trying to avoid. "An Old Magic spell. It won't come back."

"Cana you teach us?"

"I'm afraid not," he said, trying to steer the subject away. "It's too powerful for you. I'll help you fix the school's wards so dangerous animals like that can't get in again."

Godric nodded, still tenderly rubbing his bare chin. "Good, it isn't an experience I would wish to repeat."

Rowena raised an eyebrow. "That is all you will say? That was an incredibly stupid, reckless and arrogant thing to do! You placed all of us, Helena included, in danger! It was incredibly selfish."

"Yes it was," Godric admitted, smiling apologetically at Rowena and then at Helga and Helena. "I was a fool."

"We should make that the very first lesson at the school," said Salazar, still laughing. "What  _not_  to do to dragons."

They all chuckled. Helena was giggling, her earlier fear now vanished. "It  _was_  silly, Uncle Godric. Dragons don't like to be tickled."

Salazar laughed again. "No, they do not, Helena. That should be the lesson title: "Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon."

Helga nodded, laughing herself. "It would certainly catch the student's attention."

Salazar's eyes seemed to glint for a moment and he sat up straighter. "Why don't we make it the school motto?"

"What?" yelped Godric.

Helga looked intrigued. "The motto?"

"Yes, we could put it below that crest you designed."

"Now wait just a moment!"

But Helga was grinning. "That sounds brilliant! A reminder of this day and all the hard work we undertook to bring this project to fruition. Also with a very sensible moral. What do you think, Emrys?"

Merlin was laughing, looking between Salazar and Helga's hopeful expressions, and Godric's outraged one. "I like it."

Godric looked indignant. "We can't have that for the motto!" he protested. "It's silly! And it makes me look like a fool. That is not how I want to be remembered by generations of students."

"Then why don't we put it in code?" Helga said. "Make it so that the phrase isn't immediately clear."

"I think we should leave it the way it is."

"Shut up, Salazar!"

"Why not put it in Latin?" suggested Merlin. "Then only some of the students who study Latin will be able to understand it. A bit of an inside joke. Everyone else would think it's gibberish."

Helga's eyes lit up. "Yes, Latin!" she turned to Rowena. "Your Latin is better than any of ours. What is "Never tickle a sleeping dragon" in Latin."

Rowena scowled as she looked up from her book. "I will not indulge this silly motto. This school is supposed to be a serious place of education. What will we look like to the Wizards' Council?"

"If anything it'll show them that  _we_  are the ones in charge," said Godric. "Something so unique that everyone will know that it came from us and not them. It's a statement, a lasting reminder to future generations that it was  _us_ who built this school, and that this is what happened. They will never forget us."

"Please, mama," said Helena. "It sounds funny. I like it."

Rowena looked around the gathered group, seeing she was outnumbered. She rolled her eyes again. "Very well."

She thought for a moment, running over the words on her tongue.

"It's: ' _Draco dormiens titilandus nunquam'._ "

"Draco Dormiens Tilandus Nunquam," repeated Salazar, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I like it."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"I love it."

"Then that's settled," said Merlin, leaning back and enjoying the look on Rowena's face. "It's the school motto. Now we only have to come up with an equally ridiculous name for the school to go along with it and we'll be set!"

He looked meaningfully at Rowena here, who scowled and looked away, remembering the unusual dream she'd had. Merlin didn't push her; she'd come around eventually, he knew she would.

He watched her the rest of the afternoon the entire time Salazar and Helga were teasing Godric about his new lack of facial hair. She seemed really stressed about something and kept glancing to Helena nervously.

He tried to ignore it, but come the next day when he sat with Rowena and Helga during their lessons he couldn't help but notice it even more. Helga too glanced at her worriedly every so often.

When the lesson finished and Helga herded all of the children out the library and down to the Great Hall, Merlin moved to sit next to her.

"Ready for a lesson?"

She nodded distractedly. "Yes, of course."

Merlin nodded. "Alright. Close your eyes. Now, fetch me that book on poisonous magical fungi."

" _Onbrgdan_ ," she murmured, a glint of golden barely visible beneath her eyelids.

The book came soaring off the shelf towards him, perfectly controlled as always.

"Good, now, fetch me the book two shelves below that and three books to the right."

There was a pause as Rowena summoned the magic and searched for the right spell.

"Good," Merlin said, as the next book came soaring across the room and on top of the other one neatly. "Now, the one on the bookshelf behind that, three from the bottom and ten from the right."

Silence, and then:  _"Bregan mec se_ _bōc."_

The book flew over to the table. Rowena still had her eyes closed.

"Now, open the book without touching it and find the centre pages."

She did so.

"Now, open your eyes."

She did, and gasped at what was on the page before her. It was a collection of Ancient Runes, all the symbols used, and beside them, their translations. She looked up at him in shock.

"You had this the entire time?" she asked, slightly outraged. "You knew there was a way to translate the runes quickly and you did not tell me?"

"No, I didn't," said Merlin. "Because you would not accept my help. You insisted on doing it yourself. And now you've wasted months trying to work it out on your own."

She glared at him. "And why have you given it to me now?'

He shrugged. "I took pity on you."

She shook her head, and started reading the book in front of her intently. Her eyes drank it all in greedily, a small smile growing on her lips.

She looked back at him, her expression slightly softer. Merlin found himself growing closer to her, moved by the sadness in her eyes. Sadness he wanted to understand.

"Thank you," she said, smiling.

Now he knew there was something wrong. Rowena was far too proud to thank him.

"What is troubling you?" he asked her gently, in her native tongue, in which he had slowly gained in confidence. "Tell me."

She sighed. "I am just tired."

"You are too proud to admit to being tired," he said to her. "Tell me the truth."

She was silent for a long time, staring straight into space before her. He began to think she wouldn't tell him. But she seemed to give in.

"Tomorrow," she began, sounding very tentative, "tomorrow is the fifth anniversary of my husband's death."

Whatever he had been expecting, it hadn't been that. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. She noticed his discomfort.

"Oh, you need not trouble yourself, I am not about to burst into tears like some grief-stricken widow."

"Then why does it make you so sad?"

She looked to the door where all the children had just left. "Helena," she said. "She never knew her father; all she knows is what I have told her. She does not think of him, not ever. She sees Godric, Salazar, even you as father substitutes. She does not miss him because she never knew him. And … it troubles me."

She sighed. "She should know more about him. It is a daughter's duty to show respect for her father, but how can she when she has no memory of him?"

Rowena looked down at the book before her, trying to keep her emotions in check. Suddenly she seemed a lot more childlike than Merlin was used to seeing her.

He inched a little closer. "I never knew my own father," he told her. "Helena will not suffer for the lack of a father. She is well loved."

"I know," said Rowena, still staring straight down. Her fingers absentmindedly twirled a quill in her lap. "But I feel that she should still know him. It seems wrong somehow, that she does not care about learning about him, or respecting his memory. I don't know what to do."

Merlin thought for a moment. He wanted to help her, to ease the great sadness in her heart. He felt a compelling need to comfort her.

"Does he have a grave?" he asked.

"Yes, less than a day's ride from here. Why?"

"Take Helena tomorrow," he urged her. "Take her there and tell her about him. Return there every year and tell her a little more. She will not forget him."

Rowena looked up at him with a little confusion in her sad eyes. "You think that would help?"

"I think it would," he said, smiling at her. "Take her."

"But the Muggles who live close by hate me," she said, sighing. "They blamed me for his death and drove me from our home. They would not let me within ten miles of the grave."

"Then let me come too," Merlin said, a little too impulsively. "I can make concealment spells so strong not a Muggle would be able to see you, even if you were just three feet away."

Now she was staring at him completely bewildered. "Why would you do this?" she asked suspiciously.

Merlin laughed under his breath. "Must you ask? It is human nature to look out for one's friends."

"But I thought you did not like me?"

Merlin frowned, and saw her genuinely puzzled expression. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

She just stared. "The things you say to me …"

Merlin shook his head. "I do like you," he said, smiling. "It because I like you that I say these things. You are always so sad, so serious, that I want to try and do something to help you. I respect your intelligence and your wisdom, but I want to save you from this attitude you have that nothing more important than knowledge exists in this world. I like you very much indeed."

Then he grinned. "And besides, I like Helena a great deal more.  _She_  gives me hugs and draws me pictures."

Rowena almost laughed. "And you'd like me to draw you pictures?"

"Maybe," he teased. "Don't let your House be all about intelligence and learning, Rowena. Value wit and creativity as well. They are also symbols of wisdom and truth. Sometimes you just can't see that human emotions and frailties are what make us what we are. We shouldn't try to run from them."

She looked at him for a long time, as though seeing him in a new light. Then, she smiled.

"Very well," she said, switching back to English. "We shall leave at first light tomorrow morning."

"I shall be there," he promised, and turned to leave

As he reached the door to the library he paused. "And by the way, don't stay up reading that book  _too_  late tonight. It will still be here when you get back."

He heard her guilty cough and chuckled under his breath. He walked along the corridor, feeling suddenly quite happy. Perhaps this journey, like the one he had taken with Salazar would help to mend his relationship with Rowena.

At the same time though, he felt like an absolute hypocrite. He told her not to run from emotions and the past, but that was all that he did.

 _It's different for me,_ he told himself _. I need to run so no one discovers the truth. She's not immortal, she has to come to terms with this now. I have the rest of eternity to do that._

Still, he thought, walking away, either way, this would make for one interesting trip.

 


	21. A Graveside Conversation

The journey began early the next morning, with Merlin only stopping on his way down to the stables to tell Tenga to inform the other Founders where they were. He found Rowena by the stables, dressed in a long dark blue cloak, holding Helena firmly by the hand who was yawning and swaying sleepily on the spot. She perked up however when she saw Emrys.

"Are you coming too?" she asked happily. "Mama says we are going away for the day to see my papa's grave. I've never been before!"

Merlin nodded. "Yes, I'm coming. Someone needs to keep the both of you safe."

Rowena narrowed her eyes. "I'm perfectly able to keep myself safe."

"I know," said Merlin. "But you'll have other things on your mind. Let me worry about security."

She looked annoyed for the briefest of moments before sighing and nodding. She turned to the stable boy who was leading her white horse by the reins. She mounted expertly and held out her arms for the boy to lift Helena up beside her. She looked thrilled at being on a horse and began entwining her fingers in the horse's mane.

Merlin mounted his own horse and soon they were riding off, following a different path from the one he and Salazar had taken. They rode hard all morning, stopping only once to have a quick meal by the side of a running stream. They went slowly; the area was very mountainous and they often found themselves forced to go at a much slower pace to spare the horses. Merlin took this opportunity in which to talk to her.

"You're an experienced rider," he noted, glancing at her.

"Your point being?"

"Nothing," he said "just that noble ladies aren't often accustomed to riding at great speed. Take Helga for instance."

Rowena smiled. "Helga had an ideal childhood. Her parents were indulgent and she was very happy and had no need to ride far from home and no need to become a great rider."

"And you did?"

Rowena was quiet for a moment. "I went riding almost every day as a child," she said, her eyes glazed over. "It was … exhilarating to be freed from that dusty old castle where I was supposed to sit and learn to be a good wife and mother. I used to ride for hours and then settle down beside a loch to read my book."

She shook herself out of her daydreams. "But that stopped when I got married of course. My husband did not like me to ride far from home. It was … unseemly to be so wild, and besides, there was danger about, which he learned only too well."

They rode in silence for most of the rest of the day, Helena taking turns riding with her mother and Merlin to give the horses a break. Soon, they were in a massive valley, lined with tall trees, with a shining loch in the centre.

Rowena paused as she looked down below to see a small Muggle village, and beyond that, a great stone tower stood tall, casting great shadows over the village, looking strong and impenetrable. Rowena froze as she saw it, and gripped her reins ever tightly.

"That was where you used to live?" Merlin asked, in Latin so that Helena, who was sitting before him now, would not understand.

She nodded, still rather pale.

"That is the Ravenclaw Broch," she said nodding. "I lived there after we got married. I came from the next glen, and our two clans often fought, and I was … the peace offering, so to speak. Then when Ruairidh was killed by Vikings the Muggles in that village rose up against me."

Merlin glanced at it, looking formidable rising above the ground for several feet. "And who lives there now?"

"Probably his mother."

"Helena has a grandmother?" Merlin asked, surprised.

Rowena nodded. "Yes."

"But she doesn't see Helena?"

"No," said Rowena, her voice cold. "She has no interest in her. She never liked me and thought her son made a huge mistake in marrying a witch. She was one of the ones leading the angry mob after they brought Ruairidh's body back."

Merlin sat staring at the tower completely appalled. "Didn't she know you were pregnant?"

"Oh, she knew," Rowena sad, her voice hard. "But she refused to believe I was carrying her grandchild. She accused me of lying with the Devil himself. She said I was never worthy of her son."

Merlin felt the anger building. "Well," he said, keeping his temper under control. "She was wrong in that respect. A man would have to work incredibly hard to ever be worthy of  _you."_

Rowena looked at him, surprised by his praise, though pleased. Merlin looked away, feeling a little uncomfortable and oddly embarrassed.

"What about your own family?"

"My mother died when I was very young," she said, "and my father died not long after my wedding. Helena is the only family I have now."

As she heard her name, Helena looked up and frowned. "What are you saying? I'm a big girl, I want to know!"

Merlin smiled down at her. "It's just boring adult things. Don't worry."

Merlin turned to Rowena. "Where is the grave?"

Rowena pointed to a hill about five miles distant. "All the males in my husband's family were buried there. He would have been taken there also."

"Then let's go."

"What about the Muggles?"

Merlin stopped and held his hand over the village, summoning his magic. " _Hȳdan_ _ūs_ _fram gesihþ. Lǣtan ūs_ _ādrēogan_ _. Lǣtan se dohtor gieldan gafol tō hiere_ _fæder."_

His eyes flashed golden and a shimmering haze fell over the village.

"It's done," said Merlin. "They won't be able to see us."

"And this will last the full day?" Rowena asked, looking at him curiously.

"It should," said Merlin. "I'll constantly monitor it to make sure."

Rowena smiled gratefully. She opened her mouth, and hesitated before speaking. "Thank you. I … I could not have done it."

Merlin grinned, amused by her reluctance to admit a perceived failing. 'Don't mention it. Let's go."

He rode forwards with Rowena and they crossed the valley floor and towards the next hill. Merlin carefully monitored the spell he had cast as they passed by the village. For some reason he was nervous, which seemed ridiculous since he knew this spell was too powerful to be broken by a Muggle. But still, passing so close to the very same Muggles who had tried to kill Rowena, close enough to hear their conversations in the village market place, was unsettling to say the least.

They picked up speed once further away from the village and headed straight to the hill. They reached the base and they dismounted from their horses, seeing the small and winding path that led to the summit, too delicate to risk their mounts. Merlin tied the two creatures to a nearby tree, and passed his hand over them muttering a soft spell as he did so, hiding them from any Muggle who could happen to come by.

Rowena lifted Helena from Merlin's horse and set her on the ground, looking up at the path doubtfully. It seemed she was almost nervous to go up.

"I'll wait here if you like," Merlin offered, feeling like he might be intruding, but Rowena turned to him with a sad smile.

"You needn't offer," she said. "You're here now. You might as well come."

"Please come with us," Helena said, smiling at him.

So, he did. They set off together climbing up the steep and often difficult path, he and Rowena often carrying Helena when she found the going tough. She seemed frightened of heights and did not much enjoy the narrow mountain path. They were all silent, a sort of sombre mood had descended upon them all. Merlin began to feel nervous again, though he wasn't quite sure why.

After about an hour of steady climbing, they reached the final stretch. A few straggling trees lined the path, and each one had faded ribbons woven into the branches in several colours. They fluttered morosely in the soft breeze, and sent shivers up Merlin's spine. They reminded him of the Druidic practice of doing the same thing to ward off evil spirits.

"They are prayers for the dead," Rowena explained, noting his curious looks. "The closest female family member weaves one in the days after death and attaches it here to send their loved one into the next life. It is said that as long as the ribbon flies in the wind, the departed soul shall find peace."

She frowned. "I never got the chance to make one for Ruairidh."

"His mother will have," Merlin said, trying to reassure her, but she shook her head sadly.

"It should have been me. It was my duty to honour him in death."

"It's hardly your fault."

Rowena didn't answer back, and instead took hold of Helena's hand more tightly and moved forwards with intent as the path leveled out and the found themselves at the crest of the hill. The wind was stronger here, and Rowena's long hair blew around her face in a wild tangle, which she didn't even attempt to control. There was a large flat space before them, sloping down sharply on every edge, making it dangerous to stray too close from the path.

Before him were many graves in the form of earthen mounds heaped with stones. Some had more ribbons attached, others had the helmets of defeated enemies resting on top of them and yet more had wildflowers scattered on top.

Rowena moved down the gap between the two rows of cairns heading straight towards the very edge of the hill, where an even larger cairn stood, higher and more dominant than the rest. Merlin felt another chill as he grew closer. Rowena seemed to hesitate as she drew closer to it, staring at it with wide sad eyes. Helena looked at it unaffected, curious, but unemotional; she could not understand just what this symbolised.

Rowena stopped at the foot of the grave and watched it silently, a whole torrent of emotions crossing her face. She seemed to be shuddering.

Then, she took out her wand and muttered a quick spell, and a whole garland of flowers appeared in mid-air, filling the air and solemn atmosphere with a sweet fragrance. She stepped forwards and placed it over the grave. "Sìth gun robh maille riut, Ruairidh," she said, 'Peace be with you, Ruaridh'.

Helena was watching with a strange look on her face. Her eyes were on the flowers.

"Psst," Merlin whispered to her. She turned and he held out his hand. In the centre of his palm a single rose grew up and hovered in the air. He handed it to her. Her eyes lit up and she took it and hurried over to the grave where she laid it down beside her mother's flowers. Rowena looked surprised when she saw it, but turned and smiled gratefully at Merlin when she realised where it had come from.

"Is this where my papa is?" Helena asked her mother.

"Yes, this is where he lies."

"And what happened to him? How did he get here?"

Rowena's eyes were filled with sorrow. "He was fighting against some bad men. They killed him."

Helena frowned. "That was a very bad thing to do."

"Yes, it was."

"And that's why you're sad?"

Rowena nodded, though she looked confused. "Yes."

Helena nodded, and looked back at the grave, probably trying to imagine how her father could be under such a large pile of stones.

"What was he like, mama?"

Rowena smiled. "He was very brave, and kind. The villagers loved him because he was very generous and helped them when they needed his help. He would have loved having a daughter."

Helena looked at the grave again, possibly considering what it would have been like to have a father. "Tell me more about him."

And Rowena talked, telling Helena more about her father, telling anecdotes and stories about what he used to do in the castle and how everyone loved him. Merlin turned away and instead looked across the valley, his eyes on the Muggle village, telling himself he was watching out for trouble but really just giving them a moment of privacy. In the end though, he found himself turning back around, intrigued by how Rowena was talking about him. She had never spoken of him in that way before.

Helena was listening raptly. "Can he see me?" she asked. "Does he know what I'm like?"

Rowena hesitated, but Merlin answered for her. "Perhaps," he said. "He could be watching over you right now."

Helena looked amazed, and a small smile crossed her features. "Can I tell him about my life at the school?" she asked. "Will he hear me?"

"There's no harm in trying," Merlin told her, and Helena immediately plonked herself by the cairn and started whispering to her father all about the castle, and all her house-elf friends. Rowena came back to stand with Merlin.

"Perhaps telling her this wasn't wise," she said in Latin.

"Don't you believe in an afterlife?"

"It isn't logical," she said, frowning. "It makes no sense for us to go on living after death."

"None of understand life's great mysteries, even you Rowena," Merlin said. "It doesn't mean that we should dismiss them. Let Helena have this moment. If she believes he can hear her, then let her be. She may be able to find comfort in it, and it can help her connect to her father."

Rowena nodded resignedly. "That is all I wish."

She moved away further and sat on the log of a tree. Merlin sat beside her.

"I've never heard you talking about your husband like that before," he said to her. "You make him sound like a saint."

"I could not very well tell her the bad parts could I?" Rowena said back. "Let her believe it if she wants."

"It's kind of you, perhaps too kind."

"She is young," Rowena said. "Let her have this time of innocence."

"You seem sad," Merlin said.

"Of course I am!" she said. "I am at my husband's graveside!"

"But you did not love him," Merlin said, "You have told me that much before."

Rowena looked away from him. "No, I did not. But he was a good man, for all his faults. I liked him, and I was grieved to learn of his death."

"Only 'liked him'? It seems an unhappy existence. Did you like being married to him?"

"He was never unkind to me," Rowena said, twirling her wand in her fingers as though troubled. "But … I felt trapped. Like I could not be myself, and … I retreated into myself, and read for hours and learned all I could, even if he disapproved. I needed to escape into another world. One in which I could be free."

"It does not sound kind to me."

"He died defending me and the village in battle," Rowena insisted. "In that, I cannot fault him. He was brave, and gave his life so that the rest of us could live."

"Do you miss him?" Merlin asked gently, getting right down to the matter.

Rowena was silent for a very long time, so long that Helena's gentle whispers were audible in the air.

"We were supposed to bring about peace between our two families," she said, very quietly. "I wanted to prove myself to the people, to prove that I could be wise, and just, and have every one say how capable and intelligent I was. But all of that failed, and I had nothing left, except Helena."

She looked down at her hands, which were twisting in her lap. "The honest answer, Emrys, is no, I do not. I missed the idea of him more than anything else. I had not wanted to marry him, but when I did I thought that this was my chance to finally make the world a better place, to help others and stop them feeling as abandoned and trapped as I had. That is why I want this school so badly, it was the thing that kept me going, the thing that gave me purpose."

She laughed softly, breathing heavily. "But Ruairidh … he was a good man, but I could never have been truly happy with him."

Merlin nodded, his own heart heavy. "This school gives me purpose as well," he said. "I've waited a long time for something like this, something that can make me feel useful again."

"Perhaps we are more alike than we think," said Rowena, offering him a weak smile, so unlike the condescending ones she usually gave him.

"Perhaps," laughed Merlin. He moved closer to her. "You could not have stayed married to him, Rowena. It would have destroyed you. Your beauty and light and wisdom would have faded."

A flash on anger came into her eyes. "Are you glad then that he is dead?" he voice a little louder. "That Helena is left without a father?"

"No," said Merlin resting his hand on her arm. "I am not. But everything happens for a reason, even if we hate that fact. It is our duty to find the good in every situation, and that is just what you have done. The school shall be testament to you, Rowena. Your life here would have hidden you away, now you can share your vision with the rest of the world."

Her glare softened, and she smiled a little, but still, she looked sad. She looked down at his hand which was still gently resting on her arm, but she didn't seem to mind. "I worry about Helena, though," she said. "She was denied this life, and I'm not sure whether life at the school will be good for her. She deserved a father."

"But I have you, mama," Helena said. Merlin jumped, he hadn't even noticed her approaching, or the fact that he and Rowena had inadvertently slipped into English. "I don't need a father. I've got you, and Aunt Helga, Uncle Salazar, Uncle Godric and Emrys. And I've got the house-elves."

"House-elves do not make up for a father, Helena," her mother said to her, though an affectionate gaze had come into her eyes.

Helena shrugged. "Maybe. But they're my friends, and I love all of you. I'm happy, mama. Don't be sad because of me."

Rowena watched her for a moment, and then pulled her into a hug, her shoulders shaking as though she had suddenly broken down. Merlin stood up from the log and walked off, leaving them for a moment. He looked off into the distance, feeling a strange feeling building in his heart. Being with Rowena … it affected him in a completely different way that it had ever done for someone before.

Then, moving shapes on the horizon caught his eye. He turned back to the mother and daughter, still locked in an embrace.

"We should go," he said. "There are people heading this way."

Rowena looked up in alarm, and stood, taking Helena's hand. "Then let's leave."

"Goodbye papa," Helena said, blowing a quick kiss at the grave.

They all headed back down the path they had come up, finding it easier to climb down than up. They reached the bottom pretty quickly, and moved over to where the horses were tied, when suddenly, a group of people rounded a bend in the road and stepped out in front of them.

Merlin jumped and immediately checked that the spell was still in effect, breathing in relief when he realised it was. He checked once more when he saw how heavily armed some of the Muggles were. There were around ten of them; nine fully armed soldiers and one old lady. She was walking at the head of the group, dressed in a black dress, her white hair flowing freely onto her shoulders. She clutched a posy of flowers, and shuffled forwards weakly, and with great difficulty. But despite her age and frailty, there was a stern look to her brow, and her eyes were cold. He didn't need to hear Rowena's gasp to know that this was her former mother-in-law.

Thankfully, the woman did not see them, and moved up the path, passing blindly past them and towards the summit of the hill where her son was buried. Neither Merlin nor Rowena moved until she had passed completely out of sight. He looked at Rowena and saw a distressed look on her face.

"Who was that?" Helena asked.

Rowena glanced at her in a panic. "She's …"

"She's just an old lady passing through," said Merlin quickly. Helena did not need to know that her own grandmother had tried to have she and her mother burned at the stake before she was even born.

Rowena smiled at him gratefully, and she climbed onto her horse. Merlin lifted Helena and set her in front.

"Let's ride back immediately."

The journey back was spent by Merlin trying to sort out his very confused thoughts. Was he really such a hypocrite as this? Telling Rowena to move on from her past and focus on her new life, when all he was doing was trying to restore his own past? It made him uncomfortable to think how obsessed he had been with this for the last three centuries. Now he was reconsidering everything he had previously thought about his mission.

They got back to the castle and had a late evening meal with the other Founders, Godric still absentmindedly stroking the spot where his beard had once been. They discussed the opening of the school which was now only a month and a half away.

"We still don't have a name for the school!" Helga sighed, looking around the room. "I think and I think and I think yet nothing strikes me. We  _must_  think of a name."

"Something unique," Godric agreed. "So that no one will ever forget it."

"How about … The-place-to-go-to-learn-not-to-annoy-sleeping-dragons?"

"Shut up, Salazar."

"What about those ideas you had, Rowena?" Helga asked her. "Something about a dream?"

Rowena flushed slightly. "That was silly nonsense. No name for a school."

"I have told you before," said Merlin winking at her. "Silliness should be respected, not censured."

"Exactly," nodded Godric. "We can show the Wizards' Council just how little we care for their stiff and formal decrees."

"I do not wish the school to be a laughing stock," Rowena said, in such a stiff voice that everyone knew it was final.

There was some half-hearted discussion after that, but still, nothing was decided, and Merlin went to his bed that evening feeling somewhat hollow inside. Rowena was still so distant all of the time, and he found himself thinking about her more and more.

He wasn't sure why he was so intent on making her choose a silly name for the school, but it seemed important somehow. She had holed herself away all her life, she longed for a new sense of freedom, the eagle she had chosen to represent herself on the school crest was proof of that. But whenever offered this freedom, she still acted so reserved. She had been forced to act so her entire life, the visit to the grave and the sight of the old woman had brought it rushing all back. But, sometimes, just sometimes he caught a glimpse of the woman she was underneath whenever he saw the fire in her eyes or heard the teasing tone of her voice. Yes, there was hope for her.

And himself? He found himself increasingly thinking back to his time in Camelot until the guilt seemed to overwhelm him. How could he tell her these things, yet still conceal so great a part of his life from her? He lived with the pain of what had happened back then every day of his life. His failure to protect Arthur, his failure to keep the Old Religion strong in the years afterward and his failure to keep the peace between non-magical and magical peoples. The guilt was almost crushing. He realised he needed this school just as much as the Founders did. It was almost his salvation.

He felt incredibly lonely all of a sudden. Yes, he had these friends, but they did not know the real him. And they never would, not until the day that the Old Religion returned to its former glory, if that day even occurred this century.

He pulled an old figurine out of the bag he had brought with him for the first time in several months. It was the carved figurine of a dragon his father had given him all those years ago. Could he talk to Kilgharrah?

He always shied away from the idea. Kilgharrah's presence was always more sorrowful than comforting. The way he spoke, the riddles he gave … he knew the pain in Merlin's heart and tried to comfort him, tell him it wasn't his fault Arthur died. But Merlin knew it was, and that oversized lizard would never convince him otherwise.

No, all Kilgharrah did was remind him of the days that were now so far away Merlin sometimes wondered if they had all been a dream. He would try to talk him around, but it would not work. Despite being one of the only two living creatures in the world who knew Merlin's true identity, Merlin didn't want him here. He didn't want to be reminded of who he was. He didn't want to be that man anymore, the one who had made all those mistakes. He had a job to do, this was his curse, and he wouldn't rest until it was completed. Perhaps then he could finally find the peace that Merlin knew would never come in this lifetime.

The despair crept into his heart in a way it had not for several decades. He hoped to any god that was out there that these four Founders were the ones who would end this eternity of self-torture.

He didn't think he could withstand another three centuries of this overwhelming guilt and grief.


	22. On Top of the Astronomy Tower

Merlin spent the rest of July and the beginning of August helping Helga mainly in the final preparations for the school. Godric was overseeing the last of the building work, Salazar was putting finishing touches to the magical wards around the grounds and Rowena was looking over the finalised lesson plans. Helga and Merlin were focusing on the castle furnishings, trying to make it as comfortable as possible.

Soon, every room was sparkling and filled with comfortable furniture, rugs and tapestries, and every classroom had rows of desks and slates with ink and quills to write with. It was surprisingly hard work, and Merlin felt like he had often done back in Camelot when helping prepare the palace for the arrival of some guests. Only this time it would now be dozens of children.

One hundred and ten children were now due to attend the school in September, and Merlin felt a quiet thrill of excitement whenever he thought of it. He couldn't wait to hear the sound of halls filled with laughter and excited chatter. It made him humble to think how many hundreds of children would have their very lives changed by coming here.

By mid-August, the castle was almost ready, with just a few bits and pieces being done to the Astronomy Tower, which was the tallest tower and last to be completed. He was now spending some time with Helga and teaching her some more Old spells; the others were still far too busy with their work to have time for lessons.

That afternoon he found himself in the kitchens with Helga trying to perfect a Banishing spell, which was proving particularly complex. By Helga's wishes, the meals at the school would be served on golden plates in the Great Hall, and the meals would be sent up and appear as out of nowhere on those plates on the four long tables that had recently been installed by placing the food on corresponding tables below in the kitchens.

So Merlin was trying to teach her how to do this complicated spell so that she could enchant the tables down in the kitchens, but it wasn't working very well.

"I can't do it," Helga said sighing. "There are too many factors! The food has to appear  _exactly_  in the same spot as it does down here, and in  _exactly_  the right shape and form. The soup keeps missing the bowls! And if it does get there, it grows cold, or mouldy, or comes to life! It will never work."

"Yes it will," reassured Merlin. "You're just overthinking it."

As if on cue, a breathless house-elf came running into the kitchens from his scouting mission to the Great Hall above.

"Sorry, Mistress Helga, but it didn't work again. The chops ended up stuck to the floor."

Helga groaned and slumped down at the table, her head in her hands. "I am in charge of the kitchens," she grumbled. "I should be able to do this. Won't I even be able to feed these children?"

Merlin took a spot next to her. "Try again."

"It doesn't work, Emrys!"

"I thought the Hufflepuff philosophy was to work hard," Merlin said to her. "You can't give up."

"I know when I am defeated."

"You are not defeated," Merlin said firmly. "Just a little … diverted. You need to focus more."

"I cannot," said Helga, sighing. She had dark shadows under her eyes, and Merlin knew she had not been sleeping well. Now that the day of opening the school was drawing near, she was getting ever more nervous and becoming a bit of a perfectionist. She was becoming quite irritable, and Helga in a bad mood, which rarely ever happened, was something truly terrifying.

"Fine," said Merlin. "Give up. The children will have to starve. Or better yet, send them into that forest to hunt their own dinner."

"You aren't helping, Emrys."

"No, you need to start helping yourself," said Merlin. "I have given you the guidance and instruction you need for this spell. It is up to you now to complete it."

She moaned. "Why can you not do this? It would save time, and you would do it far better than I."

"This is your school," he reminded her. "I'm not about to do everything for you. That's why I stood back and let you create that ceiling in the Great Hall on your own. It would mean nothing If I did it all."

She scowled at him, and the expression was so foreign to her sweet face he genuinely felt a little afraid.

"I just want it done, Emrys!"

"Then do it!"

She turned away and looked down at the table where the remains of the meals they had tried to send up above have returned, some exploded, some half eaten. She looked thoroughly miserable.

"I cannot," she said, her voice much weaker than normal. "I'm not a great witch, I never have been."

"Yes you are," said Merlin, "the Old Religion would never have chosen you for this magic if it did not believe you were something special."

"But I'm not," said Helga. "I'm just the 'other one'. Rowena has the brains, Godric's so brave and courageous and Salazar is so cunning and wise. And what have I got?"

"You heal people."

She laughed humourlessly. "Yes, that's true. I clean up other people's mess. But what do I really contribute?"

"Helga," Merlin said to her seriously. "You have no idea how valuable a skill like that is. It isn't silly, and it's just as worthy as everyone else's. You must see that. Kindness is one the most underrated qualities a person can possess. What use is there in intelligence or bravery if you have no friends, no one to care for?"

He was silent a moment. "You have healed me," he said. "Before I can here, I was lost and alone and confused. But you, all of you, helped me to find a purpose in this school. And you have no idea how grateful I am."

She smiled at him indulgently. "I thank you for your kind words. But the fact still remains that I am the weakest out of our group. Salazar and Rowena have stormed ahead with this magic, even Godric has taken to it, but I am less than pathetic."

"No, you aren't," he said, squeezing her hand in his. "You have so much power Helga. You're just as great as any of them."

"But it takes me so long to master a spell," she complained. "I cannot do it!"

"Learning something quickly isn't a sign of great things," Merlin reminded her. "You are in no way less than the others because you take a little longer. Look at your healing spells! None of the others can do those half as well as you. You don't need to be as showy-off as Rowena or Salazar, I know that's not who you are. Take pride in who you are, Helga."

She sighed, and Merlin forced her to look at him. "You've always been less confident in your abilities, haven't you?" he asked. "Don't be. I have faith in you."

She looked at him a long moment, still doubtful, before finally she smiled. She stood up and pointed her wand at the plate before her.

"Don't think about it," he told her. " _Feel_ the magic, Helga. Blend it to your very thoughts."

" _Forlǣtan!"_  she said, in a strong and confident voice.

Her eyes burned violent gold, and the food immediately vanished. Merlin didn't have to go and send a house-elf to know that it had appeared perfectly in the Great Hall above.

They grinned at each other, and laughed so long the house-elves began to worry about their sanity.

Merlin was therefore in a thoroughly good mood when he went for his stroll around the grounds the next day. He breathed in the fresh air and took in the beautiful surroundings, feeling more alive than he had in years. Completely gone was the grief and doubts he had had the evening he had come back with Rowena and Helena, and all he felt now was contentment. He had thrown himself into working for the school, and the efforts were paying off. His spirits were high as he took in the shape of the castle against the sky, now almost completely finished. Perhaps his efforts would be rewarded. Perhaps now the Old Religion would finally grant him his mortality.

As he walked he noticed Rowena down by the lake with her daughter. He stopped in amazement. She was laughing.

He'd seen her laugh before of course, in derision or condescendingly, but never out of pure joy like this. She looked like a completely different person. Her hair was escaping its bindings and her robes were askew, but she didn't seem to care. She and Helena were playing some sort of chasing game, and every time Rowena caught her, she lifted her into the air and spun her around, Helena screaming in delight. Merlin was mesmerised by the look on her face as she laughed.

He found himself moving towards them as if in a dream. Rowena heard him approach and instead of immediately trying to regain her composure as she normally did, she just smiled. Merlin could only stare at her.

He moved every closer and Rowena grinned as he grew closer. "Helena and I were just playing," she said, motioning to Helena's breathlessly pink face, shining with happiness.

"I can see," Merlin said, still watching her in fascination. Her eyes seemed to be sparkling in delight and exertion. Merlin had never seen her this way before. "What prompted such a change?"

"Change?" Rowena asked, sounding indignant, but then she softened and bowed her head, recognising the truth of what he said. She looked back up and smiled again. "I took what you said to heart," she said, her eyes fixed on him. "Perhaps it took seeing my husband's grave to make me realise what I have in my life, and what I owe to my daughter."

Helena, bored with the turn the conversation had taken wandered off and began to play in the shallows of the lake. Rowena kept looking up at him. "You were right," she said, as they walked together down by the lake. "I am always too serious with my daughter. I always felt such a responsibility for her. I wanted her to be free to pursue the courses that were denied to me in my own youth, but instead I ended up restricting her and myself in the process."

"I can hardly believe it," Merlin said. True, the last few weeks, Rowena had been a little different. She smiled more at meals, and teased Godric about the dragon incident without berating him for his stupidity, and overall seemed much less severe, but nothing like this.

She laughed, and it sounded like soft music in amongst the whispering trees and lapping waters of the lake. "Perhaps I do take myself too seriously sometimes," she said. "I hadn't realised just how much until Helena said just now how much more fun I am now."

"So you are willing to acknowledge that books are not the most important thing in the world?" Merlin asked,

She narrowed her eyes at him mischievously. "Perhaps they aren't, but they are certainly in the top three."

Merlin laughed. "So you have not been converted fully then?"

"Not at all," Rowena said. "But I have realised the need for more balance in my life. Studying is important to me, but my daughter is even more so. I'm willing to try and embrace both as much as possible. However," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I am still not prepared to name my school after a silly dream about a warty pig."

"Oh, really?" he asked her, looking at a point just over her shoulder. "Because there's another one right behind you."

Rowena jumped and spun on the spot. "Where?" she cried.

Merlin cracked up laughing and Rowena turned around again and glared at him. " _You_ are the pig! Why did you do that?"

"To see the truth of the matter," he said, still laughing. "You do have a streak of silliness hidden away somewhere."

She shook her head and pushed playfully at him before she began laughing too, despite her best efforts to stop herself. They continued walking further around the lake, clambering over the rocks that lined the shore as they got further around. Helena was ahead of them, scrambling up the rocks and humming to herself as she explored the great crevasses between them.

Rowena stopped on top of one and looked out across the lake and towards the castle, her eyes aglow. "It's magnificent," she breathed, looking enchanted. "I can't believe it will really be open in just a few short weeks."

"All thanks to you four," he said, watching it with her.

She smiled. "You helped a little too."

He grinned. "Rowena Ravenclaw not being too proud to admit she had help? Now I know there can be miracles."

She was about to offer a witty retort when Helena started running back to them screaming her lungs out.

"MAMA!" she cried. "Look! There! It's the Squid!"

Rowena raised her eyebrows, but just this once she seemed willing to indulge her daughter. She looked into the water. "Where?"

"There!" yelped Helena.

Then, a great black shape seemed to emerge briefly from the lake, sending showers of water into the air, one long tentacle seeming to wave at them for an instant.

Rowena's face drained of hilarity and indulgence as she stared at the creature. Her jaw fell open, and she looked so incredibly child-like that Merlin burst out laughing. As quickly as it had appeared, the Squid soon disappeared again in the waters.

Rowena stared at that spot, opening and closing her mouth in shock. "It's real, it's actually  _real_."

"Of course," laughed Merlin.

Rowena took a few eager steps forwards to peer through the murky depths for the creature, but she stumbled on the slippery rocks and was about to fall into the water below. Merlin saw her fall, time slowing down for a split second as he reached forwards to grab her.

He pulled her up in his arms, still laughing. She too began to laugh and they stood like that for a moment.

"Do you believe us now?" Merlin asked, teasing her.

She nodded. "I cannot doubt the truth of my own eyes," she smiled up at him, and for a few moments neither of them moved, just looking at each other.

Suddenly coming to his senses, Merlin released her and moved away. His arms felt oddly empty without her. She stared at him for a moment as though trying to read his mind.

"Come on," he said. "We should get back."

Rowena nodded, and walked forwards to hold Helena's hand, not looking at Merlin. He wondered if she felt as uncomfortable as he did by that close encounter.

They strolled leisurely back to the castle, and as they entered the Great Hall, they found Godric standing there with one of the magical masons, looking troubled.

"What is going on?" Rowena asked, immediately back to her professional self.

Godric looked worried when he saw her. "Ah, Rowena, there may be a problem."

"It's the tallest tower, my Lady," said the mason. "I fear it will not be completed in time for your opening."

Rowena blinked in shock. "But it's the Astronomy Tower! It must be ready!"

"I'm sorry, my Lady," he said. "But there's too much work to be done."

Rowena seemed to glare at him, and the man almost cowered underneath the look she was giving him.

"I must have that Tower completed," she said. "I want the Astronomy lessons to begin straight away, and I will not tolerate any lateness on your part. Work through the night if you need to, hire extra men. That tower  _will_  be ready."

The man nodded, looking more than a little frightened. He wandered off, shaking his head, probably wondering why on earth someone in their right mind would want to study stars of all things.

Godric chuckled when the man finally passed out of sight. "That's the way to handle them, Rowena," he laughed. "I never knew you had such a fearsome glare!"

"You're very desperate to have this Tower completed," Merlin observed.

She nodded. "It is important to me," she said, not looking at him. She focused on Godric instead. "That tower will be completed, if I have to do it myself."

And she stalked off to her own tower, taking Helena with her.

Godric shrugged to Merlin. "I'll never understand women, especially  _that_  one."

But Merlin thought he understood her a little too well.

* * *

 

Either inspired or terrified by Rowena's words, the masons threw themselves ever more vigourously into their work, hammering and chiseling away day and night until Merlin thought he could stand the noise no longer. Day by day the tower grew taller and taller.

Finally, it was only a few days before the school was due to open, and Merlin sat out in the grounds that evening, watching the castle from a distance. It made his heart soar when he thought of it. Final preparations had been made, and the first teachers, hand-picked by the Founders would begin to arrive soon, looking in awe at the castle that was now their home. Even the thought of the meeting of the Governors In the castle in two days was not enough to bring down his mood.

He sighed as he watched the castle twinkling in the night. He knew deep down this was his destiny. The Old Religion told him that. The castle was as close to perfection as he knew it could be. It would solve the problems that Merlin had created when he had failed Camelot. It had to.

He stood up and went for a walk through the woods. The place was crawling with magical animals, some of them dangerous, and the Founders and agreed to make the place out of bounds, though Godric had wanted to make it a challenge for his own students of who could survive in it the longest, only if he could keep it secret from Helga that is.

Merlin soon found himself in a large clearing in the trees, and paused for a moment. This was his destiny, wasn't it? This was what he had been meant to do all these years. But there was someone he wanted to talk to first

He had avoided him all these centuries, afraid of what he would say, afraid of never hearing what he wanted to, but now Merlin was not half so apprehensive. He had found his destiny, he was sure of it.

He threw back his head, letting a great roar tear from his throat. " _O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"_

He felt the ancient power of the Dragonlords running through his veins, setting them alight and welcoming him back. He waited for several minutes, feeling oddly calm and collected. Then, he heard the flapping of wings.

He looked up as great buffeting winds threatened to send him to his knees as Kilgharrah the great golden dragon landed in the clearing. He folded in his massive wings, which seemed to have grown even larger in the long absence, and bowed his head to Merlin. Then he sat back and examined him with his great orange eyes.

"It had been many years," Kilgharrah said, his voice, his very presence filling Merlin with exhilaration as the magic of the Old Religion, the  _full_ power of the Old Religion seemed to wash over him like a wave. "I have missed you, Merlin."

The sound of his name, his  _real_  name, hit Merlin like a bolt of lightning, and he couldn't help but grin.

"And I have missed you, old friend."

"Is that so?' the dragon asked. "I thought you were avoiding me."

"Perhaps I was," Merlin said, still grinning. "But no longer."

The sigh of Kilgharrah before him, hearing his voice and just being with him was making Merlin feel happier than he had in a long time. He hadn't realised how much he had missed him.

"Oh," Kilgharrah said. "So you have finally accepted that you were not responsible for what happened at the field of Camlan?"

Immediately, Merlin's happiness drained away. Despair clawed at his heart.

Kilgharrah seemed to guess the answer, and sighed heavily. "Why must you torture yourself in this way, Merlin? It was not your fault."

Merlin shook his head. "It was," he all but whispered. "I was supposed to be there to protect Arthur, and instead I let him die and the world turned to chaos. I failed him and I failed Camelot."

Kilgharrah shook his massive head. "You must not let this guilt fill you up, Merlin. You have a great destiny ahead of you. You cannot complete it if you cannot even look yourself in the mirror. The world will need you again before the end."

"I know," said Merlin, smiling again. "And I have found something so brilliant and so amazing that I feel useful and happy for the first time since Camelot. I think I have found the end to this suffering. The end to this stalemate."

And Kilgharrah listened for several minutes as Merlin told him everything about the castle. He told him about the Founders, about each of their personal struggles, their visions and what they hoped to do for the wizarding world, his voice getting more and more excited.

"You see?" Merlin asked him, happiness all across his face. "These Founders will learn the magic of the Old Religion and then they will pass it on through this school of theirs. The Old Religion will finally awake from its slumber and return to the world. I can finally be mortal again."

But Kilgharrah did not smile, he did not congratulate him, he just sat there silently, looking solemn. He sighed, and his expression was pained.

"I fear not, young warlock."

"What?" Merlin asked, frowning. "What do you mean? This is perfect! This is what I've been waiting for all these years!"

But Kilgharrah was still shaking his head. "Merlin … this is not your destiny."

"Yes, it is!" Merlin said, an awful fear creeping into his heart. "It has to be!"

"These Founders are not the answer to your problem."

"But they have Old Magic!" Merlin maintained. "Why did the Old Religion grant them that power if not so they could return it to the land?"

"I do not know," said Kilgharrah. "I am wise, Merlin, but not even the wisest amongst us can see the end solution from just a few pieces. I sense these Founders have a part to play in your destiny, but they are not who you hope them to be. They are merely the first step. This is the beginning, and something is yet awaiting you. Your time has not yet come."

Merlin felt as though soothing icy had just slid down his back and settled somewhere In the region of his stomach. No … he had to be wrong …

"No, he said, shaking his head. "They have to be the answer. I can't watch them die, Kilgharrah. Not now. They  _must_  be the people I've been waiting for."

"No, Merlin, they are not."

"Then who is?" Merlin roared, feeling the despair build up until his hart raced and angry tears stung at his eyes. "Who is this person that I am waiting for, because I'm sick of it! I've waited  _three hundred_  years, Kilgharrah! I can't take much more of it! How much longer do I need to wait?"

"I cannot say," the dragon said, shaking his head.

Merlin cried out in frustration, and a couple of bushes nearby burst into flame with the fury he was feeling. This couldn't be happening …

He came to a stop, suddenly feeling lost and helpless. He looked back up at the Great Dragon. "My destiny in Camelot was to bring magic and peace back to Albion," he said. "And I did it, even if it did not last. Why am I being punished like this? What else must I do before I can be at peace?"

"This is not a punishment, Merlin," the dragon said, leaning down and coming closer. "Do not think of it that way."

"Then what is it?"

"Your destiny.'

"My destiny," spat Merlin, feeling the rage building once more. "I'm sick of destiny."

"You are the only one who is able to do this, Merlin," said Kilgharrah. "You were chosen for a reason. You must wait, and bide your time. Have faith that all will resolve itself in the end."

"How can I do that when every day I live amongst people I know I will have to watch wither and die?" Merlin asked. "I lose faith, Kilgharrah. I'm old … so weary … all I want to do is end this ceaseless existence."

"And that is the thinking that you must change," said Kilgharrah, his deep voice rumbling around the clearing. "You cannot fulfill your destiny when you still carry such hatred and such guilt for something that was not your fault. You cannot find peace, Merlin, because you will not allow yourself to. Arthur would not have wanted this."

"You have no idea what Arthur would have wanted,' spat Merlin, feeling the grief consume his heart. "He is dead. And by my hand."

"No, by Mordred and Morgana's," said Kilgharrah fiercely. "Learn to accept what has happened, then you will find your true path."

And with that, Kilgharrah spread his massive wings and leap up into the air, sending Merlin staggering back with the force of it. Soon, Kilgharrah was gone.

Merlin stood still in the clearing for several minutes, breathing heavily and trying to control his raging emotions. He sank to the ground, physically weak.

How was this fair? Just when he had thought it would all be finally over, the forces that governed his life had thrown it back in his face.

It was cruel, thought Merlin. He had finally begun to have a life of his own, began to have friends, to think he could start anew, and all of that was now fluttering away. He would never be able to stay here. He could not watch them grow old and die.

He buried his head in his hands.  _How much longer?_

It was almost enough to make him detest the Old Religion. He was its pawn, something to be played with and laughed at for its own amusement. He had no control over anything. His life was meaningless.

With a heavy heart, he rose to his feet once more and turned back towards the castle. He saw it looming up through the trees, but now instead of filling him with joy, it made him sad. Would he one day watch this castle crumble into ruins in the same way he had watched it happen to Camelot?

He walked back to the castle as though in a dream. Would this torment never end? He entered the castle, now silent and dark with everyone having long gone to bed. He moved through the castle like a shadow. He halted when he got to the seventh floor, suddenly feeling incredibly trapped. Would he never be free to relax, make friends and have a life once more?

He turned and headed back the way he came, heading towards the last part of the castle still under construction. He came to the door that led up to the Astronomy Tower. He cast a quick spell: " _B_ _ehȳdan_ _mec."_

His eyes flashed golden even as his body flickered and disappeared from sight. He opened the door and headed up the long flight of stairs to the top. On the way, he passed workmen, still working under Rowena's orders to complete the tower even during the middle of the night. They suppressed yawns as they fitted windows in the gaps in the stonework, finished off carvings and cut every step to equal dimensions, their wands drooping in their fatigue. Merlin slipped past them, taking advantage of their weariness and continued climbing higher and higher. The workmen were soon far below him, and he continued to the very top until he reached a trapdoor. He pushed it open and emerged on the very top of the Tower.

He breathed the fresh air like a drowning man. A gentle night breeze caressed his face as he stood looking around in every direction. The moon was out and bathed the grounds in a silvery light, making it look mysterious and otherworldly. The lake shimmered with the light of many stars.

He sank down, leaning against one of the walls and looked upwards, staring at the mass of twinkling lights far above, tracing patterns in their formations. He now understood fully how Rowena felt about this Tower. The need to come here and see the infinite extent of the world. The feeling that there was far more than these mortal trappings. For not the first time in all these centuries, Merlin wished he had just died back in Camelot along with his friends. Maybe it was selfish of him, but at times like this, he didn't care whether or not the Old Religion returned to the world, all he cared about was ending this eternal torment.

As he sat there looking up at the heavens, the trapdoor slowly creaked open. Merlin tensed as he sensed the invisible presence of another person emerge from the trapdoor, and sat in the centre of the tower, yet somehow he knew, that he was in no danger.

The presence began to flicker, and Merlin saw who it was: Rowena. She stood there looking up at the stars, wonder in her eyes. She smiled freely.

Merlin watched her for a couple of moments, taking solace in the calm of her face. He almost didn't want to alert her to his presence. He was so wretched, and she was so peaceful. This was her moment. But, he soon folded.

"You should always keep your guard up," Merlin warned her, ending his own spell of invisibility.

She jumped and turned to see him sitting there watching her. She scowled, all happiness gone from her features.

"Why are you lurking there in the dark? Trying to frighten me?"

"No," Merlin said. "Your magic should have alerted you to my presence. You should always trust your senses."

She looked away. "I was preoccupied."

Merlin nodded, looking down at his hands. "As was I."

She turned back to him curiously. "Why are you here?" she asked. She frowned when she noticed his melancholy expression. "Why did you come?"

"Maybe, I, like you, need comfort from this tower," he said, his voice low. "The stars remind me of the eternity of nature, yet at the same time, they give me illusions of freedom."

"Why should the eternity of nature disturb you?" she asked. "That is what I come to the stars for."

He almost laughed.  _Because I am as eternal as they are. I will linger on for eons alongside them_.

"Perhaps it is because they remind me of the futility of life," he said, miserably. "Many, many lives will pass, and they will still be there, unchanged."  _Like me._

She did not understand, and Merlin smiled at his own stupidity. Of course she could never understand. No one ever would.

"That is what comforts me," she said, inching closer. "That we are all mortal. But that one day if we work hard enough, we can be as eternal as they are. This school will stand for centuries, and our names and legacy will last forever."

"Sometimes forever is just too long," he said bitterly. "Far better to live one mortal life, and to die. Even if no one remembers you."

She came closer and watched him with a strange expression on her face.

"That is what my mother used to say," she said, slowly. "She told me that earning glory was not something to strive for. That if we enjoy our lives, make use of our talents and help others, the glory will come, even if unlooked for."

He laughed. "She was a wise woman. And why did you not take that advice? Your obsession with learning is all in the pursuit of being remembered and respected, is it not?"

She frowned, and looked pained. "She died," Rowena said, her voice shaking. "She died when I was just a child. She taught me to read, she taught me my love of learning. And with her, I was free, and I was happy. We laughed, and our lives were filled by a joy that I have not experienced since. And when she died, my father seemed to forget her. No longer did he indulge my love of reading, and encouraged me to instead focus on being a good wife one day. I did not laugh after her death, and I became determined to become someone of note in the world, to honour her and the values that died along with her. No one remembered her after she died, and so I became determined to do so instead."

She paused for a moment, gathering herself, she sounded oddly tearful. Merlin watched her closely, the sadness almost overwhelming him. One day, she would grow old and grey and she would die, and he would be there to see it.

"Sometimes we aren't meant to relive glory," he said bitterly. "Once it has passed, it can never be again."

"Perhaps not in the same way," Rowena said. "But it can be again, if we have enough faith."

Merlin thought about Camelot and everything that had died along with Arthur, and the endless waiting he had endured since then.

"I am not so sure," he said, his own voice shaking. "I have spent my life in pursuit of something that I now know may never be achieved. I thought I would find it here, that the four of you would help to end the grief and guilt that I feel, but I was wrong. One day I must leave this place. I never stay long, I never grow attached to people. My whole life is some ridiculous waiting game, and I think perhaps that it has now become futile. I have tried to make up for what I did back then, but I have failed. And now perhaps I shall never succeed."

He bowed his head, resting them on his knees, trying to control his emotions. His life was futile. His past would haunt him forever until he just collapsed from the long years of waiting.

"You, Emrys, are a hypocrite."

Merlin looked up in shock, to find Rowena almost glaring at him. She came forwards and he stood up hurriedly as she began to glower down at him.

"You should be ashamed," she said. "We are not pawns in your game to make you feel better about yourself. We have our own destinies, and you must resolve your guilt in your own way."

She continued as she began to shake with suppressed emotion.

"My entire life has been spent in the pursuit of knowledge and I thought that I was right," she said. "I wanted to be better than anyone else, to prove to the world that I could be better than what they had planned for me. And I thought I was content, but in reality I was dead inside. My mother taught me to enjoy life, to take pleasure in love and friendship. I forgot that part of myself, the part that could read and learn, and still take joy in life. You helped me see that, Emrys, you helped me to see the child that I used to be."

"And maybe the child that you once were still lives on in you," she said, now with watery eyes. "Don't be afraid of your past like I was of mine. To think of my mother gave me pain, and I shied away from remembering the woman she truly was and focused only on making myself better than she was and not make the same mistakes. I don't know what awful thing happened in your past, and for once, I don't want to know. But don't you dare act so miserable about it and claim you have no way of escaping your destiny. I have embraced my life in a way I never thought I could do again. You have changed me."

She stood there swaying for a moment, shaking with emotion as she finished. Merlin stared at her, feeling the truth of her words echo deep down inside of him. He hadn't heard her speak this way before, he'd never caught glimpse of this side of her. Suddenly, she seemed so much younger.

Slowly, as though in some sort of trance, he reached out with his arms and pulled her to him in a tight embrace. She did not resist and instead rested her head on his chest, clinging to his shirt with a desperation that surprised him. They stood there for several moments, the breeze capturing her hair and sending it flowing back from her face. His heart was racing, and he found his own composure breaking. He took comfort from her. Somehow, even though just moments earlier his heart had been heavy with grief, he began to feel stronger.

She stepped back finally and looked up at him, a small smile playing on her lips, all trace of desperation gone from her features.

"What is it you are always saying to me?" she asked. "That we must take pleasure from the here and now, and not think about the past or the future?"

"Do I say that?" Merlin asked, feeling a little breathless from how close she was.

She nodded, and hesitated for a brief moment.

The next thing Merlin knew, she had reached up and pressed her lips to his. Merlin's mind went completely blank. He couldn't think, he was barely even aware of his arms drifting up to pull her closer to him. She was a part of him, mind body and soul.

All too soon, she moved back and turned and crossed to the opposite side of the tower without a word. Merlin stood there, stunned, still feeling the tingling sensation of her lips on his. His arms suddenly seemed oddly empty.

"I have given further thought to the name of the school," she said casually, looking over the grounds, acting as though nothing of any import had just happened.

"Oh?" was all Merlin could say, still stunned.

She turned and smiled at him. "Yes. Many of the ancient Greek and Roman cities were named after the dreams their founders had. Why not our school?"

"I thought you said it was ridiculous?"

"Oh, it is," she said. "But I have found that even the very wisest of us must sometimes bow to the absurd. I give in."

"Give in?  _You?"_

"I am not foolish enough to keep fighting when I know I am defeated," she said, a look of mischief coming into her eye. "The school already has a ridiculous motto, why not a ridiculous name as to go along with it? Besides, Helena will like it. Call it whatever you want: 'Wartyboar'… 'Wartypig' … 'Hog with Warts ' … I really don't care anymore."

Merlin watched her, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "Hog with Warts? Sounds intriguing. Hmm … what about … Hogwarts?"

Rowena considered for a moment, but then she nodded in a professional manner that belied the gleam of delight he had caught in her eyes for the briefest of moments.

"I like it."

"So do I," he answered, smiling ever wider. "Hogwarts … Hogwarts School of … Sorcery? Magic?"

"No …" she considered, her eyes glazing over as she thought. "What about … Hogwarts School of … Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Merlin repeated, tasting the words on his tongue. "It is perfect."

"Well, no one shall forget it in a hurry at least," she said, her mouth twitching into a smile. "Even if it is ridiculous, I am sure we shall be remembered. My mother's legacy will live on in the way I always wanted; renowned for both wisdom, and for joy."

He nodded, his eyes fixed on her face, seeing the increasing happiness in her eyes as she considered the new name of her school.

He moved closer, watching as her smile grew wider.

"You're like a whole new person when you smile," he observed. "I like it."

"Don't get used to it," she said, though fighting another smile. "I may have remembered how to have fun once in a while, but I am still dedicated to learning. You have not wholly converted me. There is a whole other part to me that you are yet to discover."

"I look forward to it," said Merlin, finally stopping in front of her. "And I have no doubt, Rowena, that one day your name will be as eternal as the stars you love."

This time, he initiated the kiss.

Time seemed to stop for him as he was with her, and all the troubles, fears, guilt and grief he had been experiencing seemed to drift away, until she was all that consumed him. For once, he didn't care about the endless immortality he was doomed to, or the crushing weight of what he had to do. He was with her, now, and she was with him.

True, one day he'd have to leave, and the small part of him that was still rational was telling him this was a bad idea. But he didn't listen. He was involved now, he could not prevent the inevitable feelings of loss that would accompany leaving her. For the first time in many years, he felt alive, and he did not care what would come in the future. He had to live in this moment as long as it lasted.

 


	23. Meeting the Teachers

"Hogwarts?" repeated Salazar incredulously.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," corrected Rowena, saying such a ridiculous phrase with such a serious tone that Merlin felt a violent urge to laugh.

Salazar frowned and looked around the breakfast table at the other Founders. "Did I hear her right?"

Godric however, was grinning. "I love it!" he announced. "Hogwarts! It's perfect!"

Salazar raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Of course, Salazar!" Godric said. "Imagine the faces of the Wizards' Council when they hear  _that_ name!"

"They might close us down for us being so ridiculous," pointed out Salazar.

"No, they couldn't," said Merlin. "The school is well on the way to opening in just two days time, several noble families have pledged their support. They can't forbid us from opening now without losing face."

The others nodded in agreement. Salazar leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful.

"I thought this school was going to be a serious endeavour?" Salazar asked. "The children will think we are ridiculous if we use a name like this."

He was silent for a moment, then his emerald eyes were lit by a new fervour. "Then again … it  _would_ be rather amusing to see the faces of the Governors when they realise what we've called it …"

He thought for a moment longer. "Yes, yes, I think I like it."

"So do I!" announced Helena, swinging her tiny legs from the chair she was sitting on. "It was in Mama's dream. It has to be important."

Helga was twirling a strand of her auburn hair around her wand, looking thoughtful. "Well, it is certainly distinctive. And the power of prophecy through dreams should not be ignored …"

She reached into her pocket and withdrew the scrap of embroidery she had been carrying around for months. It was the school crest, with the four animals surrounding a large gap in the middle.

" _Gescieppan,"_  she murmured, using an Old Religion spell Merlin was sure he had never taught her. But she was successful. In golden thread, an invisible needle seemed to be sewing a new shape into this gap. Within a few moments, in the centre of the eagle, lion, badger and serpent, there was now a large letter H. They all looked at it for a moment. Helga smiled.

"Yes," she decided. "I like it." Then her gaze turned to Rowena and was somewhat curious. "I have always enjoyed the ridiculous," she said, "but you have always dismissed it before now. Why are you now suggesting such a name? What has changed?"

Rowena kept looking at Helga evenly, her expression betraying nothing, though Merlin noticed her eyes flick briefly to him and he almost blushed. He saw the ghost of a smile on her face as well.

"I just realised what my priorities were, Helga," she said. "Helena loved the name, and it is for children like her that we are building this school."

Helena looked thrilled, and smug, as though she had come up with the idea all on her own. Helga nodded, though her perceptive gaze seemed to flick towards Merlin, seeing too much perhaps.

"Very well," she smiled, not pursuing the matter. "All in favour of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

They all put their hands up, even Merlin and Helena who were technically not allowed to vote.

"Then it is settled," boomed Godric, grinning broadly. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry it is then!"

Merlin and Rowena exchanged a quick glance, and they smiled. Perhaps future generations would think of the school's name being nothing more than a joke, but they and they alone would know how significant it truly was.

At that moment, a house-elf scurried in and bowed quickly to the Founders.

"The teachers is arriving, sirs and misses!" he squeaked. "Blinky saw them coming up the path from the village!"

"Excellent," said Godric, standing up. "We shall meet with them in here. Show them in one by one."

Blinky nodded and hurried off. A couple more house-elves ran in and began to clear away the remains of breakfast. They were still all eating in the antechamber rather than the Great Hall. Helga was firm on this; she wanted the first meal in the Hall to be the Opening Feast. For luck, she said.

Soon the plates were cleared and the Founders arranged themselves on one side of the table. Merlin did not sit by them, instead, choosing to stand in the corner, preferring to observe rather than participate. The Founders had sent owl after owl to old acquaintances of theirs looking for possible teachers. Although they had been communicating for several months now, this would be the first time they would meet face-to-face.

All too soon, there was a knock at the door, and Blinky poked his head around the door. "Master Alfred Blackwood!" he announced in his squeaky voice.

A man about fifty years old entered behind the elf, and gave a short bow to the Founders. He looked well groomed, with plain but practical clothes. He had a stern, but not unkind face, and watched the Founders with great interest.

"Ah, Alfred," Godric nodded. "Good to see you again!"

"And I you, Lord Godric," the man smiled, making his face appear a whole lot younger. "You have certainly progressed a great deal since I was your tutor as a child. This castle is a wonder."

Godric grinned smugly, even as Salazar rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. "Brilliant, another man who thinks Godric is a saint."

Alfred took a seat before them and nodded politely to everyone there.

"I must admit, I was surprised to hear the school would open, I heard you had trouble with the Wizards' Council?"

"Yes, but we soon sorted that out," said Godric, waving his hand.

Salazar cleared his throat.

"Ah, well, Salazar, sorted it out I suppose," Godric said, glancing to him. "But that's not important. I'm glad you're here, Alfred. We need teachers we can trust."

"I can assure you Godric," said Alfred, smiling, "I shall teach these children just as well as I taught you."

"Well, that's not encouraging," muttered Salazar, but Merlin was certain that only he had heard him.

The meeting went well however, and Alfred asked many questions about the school and his duties as the new teacher of Transfiguration. Merlin thought that he seemed a capable teacher, despite his constant bowing and gushing about Godric's talents as a child.

After Alfred left, a tall and severe looking woman was shown in and the same procedure as before began again. She was to be the teacher of Arithmancy, and Merlin secretly felt sorry for the future students who would have to be in her class; she looked like she would not suffer fools gladly.

Then came the teacher of History of Magic, a small mousy old man who reminded Merlin somewhat of a mole, with the way he squinted at everybody.

"And just what do you consider will be necessary on the curriculum," the man wheezed, asking them. "I can teach about the ancient Greek, Roman and Persian sorcerers, and I also know a little of the wizards of Egypt."

"What do you know of Camelot?" Godric asked him. "We consider what we are doing here to be inspired by that city and wish to convey this to our students."

Merlin felt his heart leap involuntarily as he heard this. Again, he felt a pang of pain as he thought of his destiny. He too was trying to relive the glory of Camelot, so why were these four people not the ones he had been searching for?

But he brushed these painful thoughts away quickly. Rowena had helped him see the previous night that there was no point in continuing to torture himself about a destiny he could not change, and he would endeavour to keep to his new resolution. A smile came to his lips once more as he thought of her.

The teacher shrugged. "I know some, but most of what we do know is only legend and not corroborated by fact. The magic of the Old Religion is something very mysterious to me, and to all who study that city. But I will teach them all I know if that is your wish."

Godric glanced at Merlin here when he mentioned the Old Religion; knowing that he himself knew more of the Old Religion than this old man, despite only studying it less than a few months. Merlin didn't say anything. He noticed all of the Founders, Salazar in particular were glancing at him oddly.

"That will do very well," Helga smiled. "We know that knowledge from back then has been lost, all we want to do is have that city and its values remembered."

Merlin looked down at his feet here. Was it even possible to bring back those ideas? From the looks of it, not for several centuries at least. Again he thought of his latest promise to himself and pushed back his melancholy before it overwhelmed him.

Thankfully, the History of Magic teacher was soon shown away by a house-elf to see his study and his quarters and to take a tour of his classroom, and the rest of the teachers filed in one by one.

There was a Latin teacher, a small and studious young woman who carried several books in her arms, and blabbered on and on about the gift of knowledge and how vital it was to study as hard as possible. Merlin caught Rowena's eye here and winked. She scowled and turned away from him.

Then came the Divination teacher. Rowena regarded the man before her with distaste; Merlin knew that she put little stock in prophecies, but had been outvoted by the rest of the Founders.

"Now, Master Ceran," Godric said, looking over the table at him. "I'm a little confused by your letters to us. You say you can teach the art of Divination, but you do not use magic?"

The man smiled, and Merlin felt a strange feeling in his gut as he looked at him. There was something familiar about him, though Merlin was certain he had never seen him before.

"That is correct, my Lord," the Ceran said, nodding. "I do not use a wand."

"Why?" Helga asked curiously. "Can you use magic?"

"Oh yes," Ceran said. "But by tradition, my people do not use wands. We use the magic of the Old Religion."

At this, all four Founders sat upright and flicked their eyes towards Merlin. Merlin for his part suddenly realised why the man's presence felt familiar.

"I am a Druid," the man explained seeing their shocked faces and misinterpreting. "I do not use a wand, but I assure you, I am perfectly able to teach Divination without one."

Godric cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, no doubt. Well, that's all I believe, unless you have any questions one of the servants will show you to your quarters in the North Tower."

The man nodded and rose to leave. As soon as the door closed behind him, the Founders turned on Merlin.

"How is that possible?" Rowena asked immediately. "I thought there were no Druids left?"

"There aren't," said Merlin, "at least, not any proper ones. These are their descendants and they like to believe themselves superior, and abhor using wands which they all feel, myself included actually, is an insult to the ancient magic."

"But I thought no one could use the Old Religion?" asked Salazar, narrowing his eyes. "That was what made you and we so unique?"

Merlin sighed, trying to explain it. "He can't use it, not really. Most of the knowledge from back then has been lost, and these people are just fooling themselves. The Old Religion has faded from the world, and ordinary people can't use it anymore. But people of Druidic blood still have remnants of that ability left, and can do a few Old Magic spells, though incredibly weak and nowhere near the power of their ancestors."

"So he  _doesn't_  have Old Magic?"

"Oh, he does," he Merlin. "I sensed it within him. But it's weak, like its sleeping. He'll never have the power the original Druids had. It's stupid really, he could be quite a capable wizard if he used a wand, but Druidic descendants refuse to do so and prefer to keep to the 'Old Ways' even though they barely know anything about the Old Religion."

Merlin had met plenty of these 'Druids' over the years, often having arguments with them over their stubbornness. Although he himself hated using a wand, he was not these people; they couldn't use the Old Religion the way he could. They thought themselves to superior to him, and no matter how he tried to convince them, they just thought he was a modern wizard who had 'betrayed' the ancient ways. If only they knew who they had insulted … the looks on their faces would be priceless.

"If they are so traditional then why does he wish to teach here?" Helga asked, frowning.

"He's probably just broke," shrugged Merlin. "Most of them are. They don't embrace modern ways, so they get left behind."

It made him sad to think about them like this. He himself had been forced to adapt, no matter how much he hated it. Why couldn't they do likewise?

Rowena was watching him shrewdly, but Merlin tried to look away from her before she started interrogating him.

Godric however seemed satisfied. "Very well, next!"

The next two meetings passed without much activity. The Muggle Studies teacher was a Half-Blood woman from the north, and was practically worshipping the founders for having the courage to try and put a stop to the hatred of Muggles. The last teacher was the Care of Magical Creatures instructor. He was a large beefy man, with numerous scars all over his body. He was missing an arm, and told them all in a low and monotonous gravelly voice how exited he was to be here. Godric seemed to love him, but Helga looked worried. Merlin couldn't blame her; he looked more like the sort of man who would be first into a tavern in the morning and last out at night than a capable teacher.

"I'm happy with the ones we have chosen," said Godric nodding as the door closed for the last time. "So let's see … what are we teaching again?"

Helga sighed. "How can you not know, Godric?"

"The lessons themselves were never very important to me."

"What else did you expect in a school?"

"Anyway," Salazar interrupted before they got too annoyed with each other. "I am teaching Potions, Rowena Charms and Astronomy, Helga Herbology and Healing and you Godric are teaching Dueling."

"That's a lot of work for each of you," said Merlin. "Can you teach the students, run the school and continue your studies in Old Magic all at once?"

"We shall need to," said Helga, though Godric looked doubtful. "What about you, Emrys? Would you like to teach anything?"

"Me?" Merlin asked. "Well … what else is there to teach? Unless of course it was … Ancient Runes?"

Rowena seemed to glare at him here, even as he sent a teasing smile in her direction. "I shall teach that subject," she said determinedly.

"But you can't read Ancient Runes yet."

"I shall learn," she said, fixing Merlin with a challenging look. "It may be a few years, but I shall do it."

Merlin looked at her for a moment, realising it was futile to argue, inwardly admiring her determination. He stared at her a bit longer than was strictly necessary.

"Very well," he said, not taking his eyes away from her face. "Then ... I should teach you."

She hesitated a moment. "Fine," she said, reluctantly.

"You give in?" Salazar asked her in amusement. "That is most unlike you, Rowena!"

She shrugged. "I won't have anyone say I am too proud to learn from a master," she said, looking away from Merlin. "And besides, Emrys shall need to focus on continuing to teach us."

"If we have time," said Godric, looking down in alarm at the timetables he had drawn up.

Helga was watching Rowena and Merlin curiously. Then she stood up and brushed herself down.

"I am heading down to the village to call upon our future students," she announced. "Rowena, Emrys, shall you come?"

They exchanged a glance, and both nodded simultaneously.

"I suggest the two of you finalise preparations," said Helga, looking back to Godric and Salazar. "Make sure the house-elves are prepared and everything is in order. With the School Governors meeting tomorrow we won't have much time. And please, try not to kill each other?"

Salazar smiled wryly. "I cannot promise anything."

Helga just sighed, and together the three of them left the room, crossed the Entrance Hall and emerged out into the summer sunshine, strolling casually down to the village. He and Rowena walked on opposite sides of Helga, but her eyes seemed to flicker between the two of them with a knowing gaze. Merlin felt his face grow slightly hot;  _did she know something?_

Rowena however betrayed nothing, and adopted her usual stoic expression as they walked into the village. The place was filled with far more children than usual. Some of them were dressed as ordinary peasants, and were running around the streets playing in the muck and chasing each other. Others looked far richer, standing on the sidelines with rich clothes, almost sneering down at the other children with expressions far more mature than was healthy for such youngsters.

Everyone looked up when the three of them arrived. A rich looking man hurried forwards and bowed politely to them.

"Ah! You must be the Founders!" he said, his eyes passing between the three of them.

"They are," Merlin said, gesturing to his left. "I'm just a friend."

The man nodded at him distractedly, before bowing again to the ladies. "I have been awaiting such a visit!" he said. "I have escorted many children north this last month, ready for their term at this school, and they are all very excited, aren't you?"

The couple of rich looking children nearby nodded stiffly, looking less than thrilled at being here.

The man was not discouraged however. "I am Lord Sylvan," he explained. "The children of the noble families in my part of the country came with me here, but I am afraid we arrived a few days too early. We are all of us crowded into the inn. Thank goodness you are here!"

"Why? What can we do to help?" Rowena asked, looking around at the children.

"Why, take them to this castle of yours of course!" Lord Sylvan said, frowning a little.

"I am afraid the castle is not yet ready," said Helga. "They shall come on the first day of term, the day after tomorrow."

The man was now seriously frowning. "But they are living in an inn!"

"I gathered that."

"But they cannot remain there!" Lord Sylvan said, gesturing to the village tavern. "It's hardly fit quarters for ones of their status!"

"The other children seem happy enough," said Rowena pointing to the children who were playing freely rather than standing around looking with displeasure at everything they saw.

"They are peasant children," the man said as though she were crazy. "The children that I have escorted, as well as the dozens of others who have been brought here by others like myself deserve better!"

"No, they do not," said Merlin, frowning at the man. "The school will not open to students until Sunday evening, when all of them shall be brought to the castle for the Opening Feast. Until then, they must just remain here and make themselves as comfortable as possible. On Sunday, more children will arrive and all of them shall congregate here in the village and will be brought up to the castle at the same time."

Lord Sylvan looked at him with a barely repressed sneer. "Ah, yes, the man Merrol told me about. The mysterious Emrys, who has neither blood, title nor wealth."

"But multitudes of intelligence, good sense and kindness," Rowena said fiercely. "You will show him the same respect as you do us."

Merlin was too stunned that Rowena was defending him to say anything. Helga's eyes widened and a look of comprehension dawned on her face.

Lord Sylvan scowled, but did not argue. "Very well," he said, with great difficulty. "The children can remain here. But I suggest you tell these other children not to bother them."

"Those other children," said Helga, scowling so fiercely Merlin took a step back, "will soon be their classmates. I suggest you tell them to get used to the other children."

Lord Sylvan looked scandalised. "You mean, they shall be in the same lessons? In the same quarters?"

"Don't worry, they won't catch fleas," Merlin said, glaring. This man was reminding him unpleasantly of every stuck up and arrogant Knight he had known in his early years in Camelot.

"If you don't like it," said Rowena, "take it up with the Wizards' Council. They have given us their blessing."

Lord Sylvan looked outraged, but simply bowed once more, grudgingly. "That will not be necessary, my Lady," he said, and immediately stormed off, looking as though he were about to boil over in anger.

"That went well," said Merlin, following the man with his eyes.

Rowena sighed. "I am afraid that attitude will be hard to get rid of. I fear this is something we shall constantly come up against."

"Then we shall just have to overcome it," said Helga. Suddenly, she frowned, and seemed to be thinking deeply on something. She started moving hurriedly down the street. "Come, I have an idea."

Merlin and Rowena hurried to catch up with her. As they walked, Merlin smiled.

"You stood up for me," he said, casting her a sideways glance.

"Of course," she answered, her noble bearing back. "Anyone one of us would."

"Yes, but it was you."

"And your point?"

"Nothing," shrugged Merlin, still grinning. "It was just nice to have you defend me like that."

She seemed to ignore him, but he caught the tiny smile on her lips.

Before them, Helga had stopped in front of Elred and Hilda's house, and knocked. There was a scuffling noise inside, and then the door opened to reveal Hilda in her baking apron.

"Good day," smiled Helga. "I am Lady Helga Hufflepuff, and this is Lady Rowena Ravenclaw. I was wondering if I might speak to your husband?"

Hilda squeaked and hurriedly ripped off her scabby and dirty apron.

"Of- of course, my Lady," she said. "I'll just go and get him." She glared at Merlin as though to reprimand him for bringing such nobility to her door when she wasn't dressed to receive, and called inside to her husband. A moment later, Elred appeared on the doorstep. He stopped in surprise when he saw who was there.

"Good afternoon, Master Elred," said Helga, smiling that sweet and deceptively innocent smile of hers. "May we come in? I have some business to discuss."

"Er …" said Elred, glancing at Hilda. "I suppose so."

"Excellent, said Helga brightly, and stepped through the door. Rowena and Merlin followed, though Merlin was wondering why on earth they were here.

They moved into the single room that composed the house. Two beds stood against one wall, the sheets messy, half the kitchen table was filled with ingredients and flour and messy utensils, and the other half was where Tomin was sitting, studying his books. He smiled shyly at Helga as she entered and she nodded back.

"Studying still, Tomin?" she asked, pleased. "You shall be top of your class! Are you looking forward to the Opening?"

He nodded, his bright red hair falling in his eyes in his rush to answer her.

"Still as talkative as ever," observed Rowena, and Tomin blushed, but Helga simply turned and took a seat by the fire, Rowena joining her. Merlin and Elred stood, whilst Hilda scurried frantically around the room, making beds and clearing away the mess as best she could. A rather mangy dog, apparently a recent addition to the family, was gnawing on an old bone under the table and Hilda shooed it outside, apparently mortified to have such an untidy home with such fine company visiting. Helga however pretended not to notice.

She smiled up at Elred. "Are you ready for the Governor's meeting tomorrow?"

Elred nodded, though he looked nervous. "I am," he said. "But I fear I won't be able to do anything. The others have already appointed this Headmaster of theirs. They sent me a letter about it, and I had Tomin read it for me."

Merlin frowned. "They should have included you in that decision. They should not have appointed a Headmaster without consulting you as well!"

Elred shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I don't know this man, or any of the others they had suggested anyway."

Merlin was still indignant however. Was this how the School Governors were destined to operate? Were the Governors from the nobility already dominating the others?

"Emrys has explained to you what's happening at the school?" Helga asked him. "Are you certain you can make the right decisions?"

"I already have, my Lady," he said. "I'm not going to vote against anything the Founders have already decided."

"That is a little presumptuous," said Rowena. "Surely it is wiser to listen to all that is said before making your decision?"

"With all due respect, my Lady," he said. "I trust the four of you, and I trust Emrys. I know him well enough to know anything that you have decided is worthy, and I will endeavour to make the others see that as well."

"Excellent," said Helga, smiling. "I do value loyalty."

Rowena glanced at Merlin here curiously, and he smiled back at her before looking away. He couldn't afford to get distracted just by her near presence. He had already replayed last night in his mind several times that day; once more and he feared he may get carried away.

"You have certainly chosen a wise man, Emrys," said Helga. "But it is not your position as a Governor that I came to see you about. Rather, your skills as a draper."

"My … what?" Elred asked, frowning, and even Merlin was confused. Was she about to order a new dress? Surely the timing was a little strange?

"Yes," nodded Helga. She glanced at the other two. "How long do you think it will take to make two sets of robes for one hundred children?"

Elred stared at her in astonishment for a moment, unsure if he heard correctly.

"Um, my Lady?"

"What are you thinking, Helga?" Rowena asked curiously. "The students have their own clothes."

"I know," she said. "but I want them to have a uniform."

"A uniform?"

"Yes," she said. "Did you see the look on Lord Sylvan's face? He thought the other children were scum. They will always be separate. We can't have half of the class in rich clothes and jewels while the other half dresses in rags. We need to unify them. They can all wear the same, and then they will feel more like a single group rather than prominently marking out the nobles from the poor."

Merlin thought about it a moment. It was actually a pretty good idea. But he wasn't sure how some of the nobility would take to their children dressing the same as peasants.

Helga turned back to Elred. "Can you do it?"

"Um," he said, looking flustered. "Two- two hundred sets?"

"Just one hundred first," she said, "in time for the Opening Feast. The other sets will be spare clothes and you can get around to them as soon as possible."

He was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. What will they look like?"

"Just plain," she said. "Sturdy and practical. Warm for the winter but not too restricting."

"What colour?"

Helga glanced to Rowena and Emrys.

"We have to be careful," said Rowena. "Some of the rich children's families would not like their children seen to be wearing the colours of a rival family."

"What about black?" suggested Merlin. "As far as I'm aware, no noble House has that on their coat-of-arms."

Helga frowned. "It's rather depressing," she said. She sighed. "But I suppose it's a good idea. Black then."

Elred nodded. "I'd need to measure them all."

"Start with the ones already in the village," she said, "I think about half of them have already arrived, and the rest will be arriving over the next two days. I will pay you of course."

Elred was grinning now, and his fingers twitched, as though eager to begin right away.

"I'll have them ready, my Lady, don't you worry! Even if I have to work all night!"

"But what about his meeting tomorrow?" asked Rowena. "He won't have the time!"

"Then I'll help!" said Hilda, nodding and looking just as excited as Elred. "I'm just as good at Tailoring Charms as he is. You'll have your uniforms!"

"I have no doubt," said Helga, standing up to leave. She hesitated a moment, before reaching into her pocket and withdrawing the scrap of embroidery she always carried with her. She passed it to Elred.

"I would appreciate it if you could have this crest on the uniforms as well," she said. "All black will be far too gloomy."

He nodded and she moved over to the door, calling out one last goodbye to Tomin. Rowena turned to leave, when Hilda called her back.

"My Lady?" she began, seeming a little nervous. She took a handkerchief and wrapped a couple of warm cakes in it and passed it to her. "For little Helena," she said. "She so enjoyed them last time she was here."

Rowena looked at her with a little confusion, but she nodded and left, looking at the cakes in her hand strangely.

The three of them moved around the village for the rest of the afternoon, checking up on the children they had been teaching and seeing how the new ones were settling in, occasionally coming across Elred chasing some laughing child with a measuring tape. The entire time, Rowena kept looking down at the cakes in her hand, a small frown on her face.

Eventually, he headed back to the castle. When they reached the Entrance Hall, there was some smoke coming from the corridor that led to the kitchens, with a couple of house-elves rushing down it with buckets of water, looking frantic while they heard Godric's voice echoing: "Don't panic! I'll put it out!"

Helga closed her eyes and moaned. "Honestly! Leave Godric alone for  _five minutes_  …"

She took out her wand and hurried off down the corridor, looking murderous, and Merlin was glad he wasn't in Godric's shoes right now. Rowena didn't even seem to notice.

They walked together in the general direction of what they were now calling Ravenclaw Tower.

"They aren't going to bite you, you know," Merlin said to her, gesturing to the cakes.

She didn't smile. "You took Helena to their house?" she asked, though not in an angry way.

"Yes," said Merlin. "When I asked Elred to be the Governor. Was that alright?"

She nodded, and sighed a little. "Yes."

"Then what is troubling you?"

She looked embarrassed. "It's just … she is not like me. She doesn't find it difficult to make friends. I mean, look how she has taken to you! You are so good with her, and she is so … open and friendly."

"She is young," he reminded her. "She has no reservations. She's never been unhappy."

"Like me, you mean," she said. They had now come to a stop before the entrance to her quarters. She seemed upset. "I have always distanced myself from others, and my own daughter now has more friends than I do!"

Merlin couldn't help but laugh at little, prompting a dangerous glare from Rowena. "It isn't too late," he said, gently placing a hand under her chin to make her look at him. "You have the chance to change that."

She smiled weakly, then she hesitated.

"That Druid," she said, changing the subject so rapidly Merlin had to think back. "You said he can't fully use the Old Religion. But why then can you?"

Merlin was silent a long time. He wished he could just stay here, looking into her eyes and not have to answer that question. Whatever he said, he knew it would a lie, and lying to her seemed abhorrent to him.

"I am an anomaly," he said trying to stay as truthful as possible, hating himself and the Old Religion for this forced deception. "There are none like me. I am alone."

She was obviously not satisfied with this answer, and wanted to ask more. But as she looked into his eyes, she seemed to realise that he would not tell her anymore, and she fell back, grudgingly accepting this. She sighed, disappointed, and placed her hands over his, making his skin tingle.

"Then we are more alike than either of us realise," she simply said.

Merlin watched her for a moment, moved by her quiet acceptance. Using his magical senses to check here was no one around, he quickly leaned down and captured her lips with his for a moment, rejoicing in their closeness, in their shared bond; he had never felt this close to anyone in all his years of waiting, no one else who could understand loneliness in the way he did.

He ended the kiss, and straightened. She remained close to him, running her eyes over his face with a small smile growing across her own. She glanced back to the door.

"We have several hours before dinner," she said, smiling. "Helena is out on her walk with Scáthach. Why don't you come in for a while?"

His mind was screaming at him to say no, to run as far as he could in the opposite direction, but his heart was telling him otherwise. What was he thinking? He was supposed to be as detached as possible! He couldn't allow himself this. It would be too painful, too hard to leave when the time came …

But, as she took his hand and led towards the door, he found himself following, disregarding every logical argument to the contrary. He was fooling himself if he thought he could still be detached now. He was so entirely under her spell that resistance would be useless.

For the first time since Arthur's death, he entirely surrendered himself to passion rather than cold, hard logic. He needed this, he needed her. And he would enjoy it, for however long it lasted.


	24. Final Preparations

Merlin woke the next morning in a cold sweat, gasping for air as he emerged from his dream. He got out of bed shakily and headed over to his nightstand to pour himself a drink of water. He gulped it down quickly, staring aimlessly out the window and into the grounds. He was shaking.

He thought back to his dream and shuddered, feeling cold at the very thought of it. He felt an awful feeling sinking through his body. He hadn't dreamed like that in …  _so_  long … Why had it come to him last night?

He had a horrible feeling he knew exactly why.

He shook himself of these thoughts and began to get dressed, still unnerved. Tenga soon came by and informed him quickly that the others were already at breakfast before rushing off with a dustpan and brush, eager to make the final preparations for the school.

He splashed some water on his face to waken himself up a little before heading down to the antechamber off the Entrance Hall. Once he entered several people looked up at him, and he stopped out of surprise. Of course, he had forgotten that it was not only he and the Founders that lived here now. The new teachers smiled at him and he moved past them to sit beside Helga, who was reading through some lists with a worried frown on her brow as she tried to think what she had forgotten. He caught Rowena's eye, and she hurriedly looked away, a slight blush on her cheeks. He grinned as he drank from his goblet, though he felt like blushing himself. Then the thought of that dream came back to him and he stopped.

A new teacher, the Muggle Studies woman, smiled at him from her seat across the table.

"Hello!" she said brightly, shaking his hand excitedly. "You were in the meeting yesterday weren't you? We didn't get a chance to introduce ourselves, did we? I'm Olwyn Briar, and you are?"

"I'm Emrys," he answered, shaking her hand, once he managed to get a chance to speak.

"Emrys? As in the old legends? How fascinating!" she said, her eyes wide. "I love those old stories, it's one of the few things both Muggles and wizards agree on. I'm the Muggle Studies teacher."

"Yes, I know-"

"I've spent a lot of time traveling," she said, speaking incredibly fast. "You know, Muggles are different all over Britain and I wanted to try and learn as much as possible. It's just vital that we teach our children how to peacefully interact with them. Half of all violence stems from ignorance, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, I-"

"I'm a Half-Blood, so I know how difficult it is from first-hand experience," she said, "but you know, if my mother and my father can put aside their differences and have a loving relationship, then why can't we all? But I'm afraid Half-Bloods are just so rare, aren't they?"

"Well, I'm a Half-Blood-"

"Are you really?" she asked, if possible, even more excited. "That's splendid! Where were you born? How did your family cope with the differences? Please, anything helps, we need to show these children how Muggles are not mindless animals and how it is possible to have loving and caring relationships with each other."

"Well, I'm not the best example. My father left to protect my mother from angry Muggles-"

"It's the same story everywhere isn't it?" she said, shaking her head sadly. "But we  _can_  change that. That's why I'm so happy to be here! I could never have dreamed of something as amazing as this. But are you a teacher as well?"

"Um, no, I'm just-"

"A caretaker perhaps? A gamekeeper? A cook?"

"No," Merlin said, trying to get a word in edgeways. "There are servants taking those positions. I'm just a … friend."

"Oh, how lucky you are to have such friends! If only people like this were more common-"

Merlin could not believe how fast this woman could talk. It was almost as if her own mouth was running away from her in excitement. He glanced at Salazar who was sitting two seats down from this woman, watching the entire exchange.

 _Help me,_  Merlin pleaded silently with his eyes, but Salazar just smiled and shook his head, his eyes twinkling in amusement. Merlin glared at him.  _Oh, you'll regret this later …_

Breakfast continued at this pace, and Merlin had to eventually make some excuse to get away from her and into the Entrance Hall. He breathed in relief, before laughing softly to himself. Well, she'd make an excellent teacher at least, if her passion for the subject was anything to go by. He only hoped she'd slow down a little once the excitement had worn off.

Eventually, most of the teachers began filing out of the antechamber, some of them still looking up in amazement at the massive Entrance Hall. House-elves and human servants alike were there to escort them all on further tours and help them get their classrooms organised. The Latin teacher was walking beside Rowena, talking rapidly away in Latin, carrying a heavy book under her arm.

"Children these days just do not understand how vital Latin is," she was saying emphatically. "All our spells come from Latin, they should be able to understand what they are saying when they cast a spell. What if one day they need to create their own spells? They need to be prepared. It is a tough subject, and I will brook no complacency. They will study hard, I will ensure that. Perhaps Latin is not as glamourous as Dueling or Transfiguration, but it is so much more important! Knowledge is key. Books and studying are vital!"

Rowena nodded, looking very serious. Then she caught sight of Merlin who was trying hard not to laugh.

"Is she your sister?" Merlin asked her in Gaelic. "A close cousin?"

She scowled at him, and the Latin teacher turned around distractedly. "What was that?"

"Nothing," said Rowena, glaring at him. "He's just expressing his love of books also. He needs to study as much as possible in order to keep up."

"Pity, pity," said the woman, adjusting the position of her book. "Now, onto what I have planned for lessons-"

Merlin watched, silently shaking in laughter. He watched the teachers troop out of the antechamber, Godric having a very serious discussion with the Care of Magical Creatures about how best to capture a dragon. He waited until Helga came out, last, and trying to shake off the Druid. When she finally did, she found him waiting there and smiled.

"Ready?"

"Of course," said Merlin, and together they crossed the hall and went down into the kitchens where the house-elves were hurriedly clearing away the remains of breakfast, all of them avoiding a great blackened corner.

Helga scowled when she saw it.

"The school's not even open yet and he's managed to destroy something," she muttered angrily to herself.

"How did it happen?"

"You know Godric," she sighed. "He tried to show off. Tried to do all the dishes with a spell and ended up blowing up the entire row of sinks. He should stick to the Old Religion dueling spells, at least he's halfway decent at  _those_."

"He didn't break another wand did he?" Merlin asked as they moved over to inspect the damage.

"No, but the tip's blackened," Helga said, crouching down to examine the piping. "Can you fix this?"

"Probably," Merlin said. He held his hand out over the mess. " _Fæstnian_ _._ _"_

His eyes flashed, and a golden light filled the room along with a humming sound. Soon, the sinks were back to new, and the soot stains had been removed from the wall and ceiling.

Helga breathed in relief. "Thank you, Emrys, with the Opening tomorrow, this was the last thing I wanted to worry about. Rowena and I still have a lot to do."

"Not a problem," said Merlin, taking a seat at a nearby table, suddenly weary at the mention of Rowena. Immediately, a house-elf scurried up.

"Will sir be wanting anything?"

"I've just had breakfast," Merlin shook his head. "But thanks."

The elf bowed and moved back off to his work. Merlin watched the elves at work for a few moments as Helga took a seat next to him.

"They really enjoy working?"

"Yes," smiled Helga. "I was hesitant at first, but they seem to find fulfillment in working for us. I've offered them pay, but it seems to insult them. As long as they're happy, I'm happy."

"Me too."

"Are you?" she asked him, peering into his face. "You are distracted this morning."

"I'm fine."

"Do not lie to me, Emrys," she said sternly. "I can always tell. Please, tell me what troubles you."

Merlin sighed heavily, not sure if he wanted to discuss it. "It's … just a dream. I didn't sleep well."

"Dreams can have meaning," said Helga, "just look at the one Rowena had!"

He looked away when she mentioned Rowena, and she looked further intrigued. "Please, Emrys. Tomorrow will be a happy day, I do not want this clouded by your unhappiness. Tell me about the dream."

Merlin looked fixedly down at the table, trying to get a grasp on his emotions before they overwhelmed him.

"It was about …" he began, unsure of how to continue, "it was about a woman I knew long ago."

"I see," said Helga. "And I'm guessing by the tone of your voice that you were in love with this woman and that it did not end well."

His wince was all the confirmation she needed.

"She died," Merlin said. "And … well, I don't often think of her. It was always too painful, and last night I dreamed about her, and her death, for the first time in cen … in a few years. And I don't know why."

"I think perhaps you do," said Helga, her gaze sympathetic. "Perhaps you are feeling guilty for moving on and you feel you are forgetting her?"

"No," said Merlin, shaking his head. "In truth, I barely knew the woman, but what I felt for her was … he sighed. "We were … alike. I felt close to her in a way I had never felt before. I didn't feel so alone when I was with her, she understood me. And then she died, and all the hopes I had that I wouldn't be alone again faded with her."

Helga nodded, as though he had just confirmed something. "I know what it is," she said. "You do not want to get close to another woman again because you fear you will lose her too, and the bond that you have will fade and you will be left with nothing once more."

"I always move on," he said. "I never stay in one place, and one day, I will leave here too, no matter how much I want to stay, because it is my destiny. I could never get close to anyone because I  _know_ I would eventually have to leave them."

She looked a little sad when he mentioned leaving, but nodded as tough she had expected it. She placed one soft hand on his arm.

"That is always the risk you take in loving someone," she said, "no matter the circumstances. But pleasure is often a fleeting thing. You should not deny yourself that love and contentment, even though it will be brief. Take every opportunity life throws at you. Sometimes the love is so great that the pain you feel is almost worth it. But even though you will leave, that bond will always remain with you."

She stood up, and moved her hand up to his shoulder. "Take joy in love, though it may be only as brief as a spring flower. There is too much destruction in this world for us to deny ourselves what few pleasures it has."

She began to walk out of the kitchens but stopped to say one last thing. "I'm sure Rowena would agree. She too has spent time in silence longing for someone to ease her own loneliness," she said, giving him one last knowing look, before passing through the kitchen doors.

* * *

 

Merlin spent the rest of the morning milling around the school, offering help wherever it was needed. More than a few times he encountered some poor teacher who had fallen prey to the moving staircases, trick steps and confusing corridors, and pointed them in the right direction. But his heart wasn't really in it. All he could think about was what Helga had said.

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to just surrender himself to it. Surely, surely he couldn't end up so badly hurt at the end of it if he knew from the beginning that it would not last. Surely he had a duty to himself and Rowena to make the most of what they had while it lasted.

He only hoped he'd be able to let go when the time came.

Just when he was thinking this over, a brightly coloured mass drifted into view.

"Well looky here! Master Emrys! And all alone! We might have some fun with this one!"

Merlin scowled up at the small man hovering on the ceiling. "Leave me alone, Peeves."

However, Peeves followed him along the corridor blowing raspberries and generally trying to annoy him. Peeves had been suspiciously quiet the last few months, and Salazar's tongue-in-cheek nickname for him had now become his identity, but now that the castle was filling up with new people and the date of the Opening was drawing near, he seemed to be trying to cause as much havoc as possible.

"Peevsie is going to have fun, yes he is," he cackled. "Hundreds of little brats running around ready for Peevsie to pounce! What fun!"

Merlin rolled his eyes, wondering for the umpteenth time why Godric wouldn't have him exorcised.

"Peeves just can't wait for this feast!'

"You're not going," scoffed Merlin. "The last time you went anywhere near food you buried a house-elf in mashed turnips."

Peeves scowled, and for a moment, he looked actually dangerous. "We'll see about that then, won't we?"

And then he vanished, leaving Merlin with a bad feeling that this wouldn't be the last he'd hear of it. He wandered around for a while longer, and went out to the grounds to check the castle defences for the last time, before he headed back inside, ready for the Governor's meeting.

As he entered the Entrance Hall, he found Godric and Salazar waiting for him with Elred, who was dressed in his finest, though still shabby, robes. Merlin nodded to him. "How are the uniforms coming along?"

"Very well," Elred, said, though he looked exhausted. "All the children in the village have been measured and about half of them are fitted out, but there are still so many yet to come!"

"You'll manage, don't worry," Merlin smiled at him.

Elred didn't look so sure. They waited there for a while, expecting the arrival of the other eleven Governors and the man they had selected as Headmaster. Merlin couldn't deny it, he was nervous.

Soon, a kind looking man appeared in the doorway to the castle. He looked around in awe. "This is the place you've built, Godric?" he asked in amazement. "I forgive you now for making it so difficult to find, it's incredible!"

"Lucretius!" Godric roared, pulling the man into a rough embrace. "Good of you to come!"

The man grinned guiltily. "I couldn't resist the chance of making the Wizards' Council look like a fool now, could I?"

After Lucretius, several more people continued to arrive, some noble looking, some obviously of limited means, and some who looked particularly nasty. But all were in complete admiration of the school. Godric and Salazar whispered to him the names of all the ones they'd selected as they arrived, and Merlin tried desperately to remember them all, though Godric and Salazar did not themselves know all the names of the men the Wizards' Council had sent.

"A fine place you have here," said one of the Wizards' Council representatives. "But rather too grand for some of the people you'll be teaching, is it not?"

Godric glowered at the man. "Every child deserves luxury."

"Indeed," the man said lightly, and Merlin gathered that he was a sort of leader. "Now, shall we proceed to the meeting place? I believe our Headmaster has arrived."

Merlin turned to see a proud and noble looking man enter the castle, not looking even the slightest bit interested in the grandness of the castle. He wore flowing purple robes, and had a neatly groomed beard and shoulder length black hair. His face looked stern, and his eyes were a steely grey. Yet, there was something about the lines around his eyes and mouth that made Merlin think this man was inclined to laughter. Overall, he struck Merlin as someone fair, and decisive. Not someone he had expected to be chosen.

Godric and Salazar regarded him coolly, offering him a polite nod of the head. They weren't best pleased with this arrangement, Merlin knew. This was their school, and they had wanted to choose the first Headmaster.

"Lord Godric, Lord Salazar," the man said in a deep voice. "Pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I am Gerret Whitethorn. This castle seems like a great achievement. I was very intrigued to learn of it. I hope we may soon work closely together to make it the finest establishment in the land."

Godric and Salazar nodded, both looking slightly more appeased. The Wizards' Council representative did not look pleased; his eyes had flicked to them briefly when he had mentioned making Hogwarts the finest institution in Britain. The implication was not lost on them.

Merlin immediately liked the man.

"Shall we?" Salazar said, and gestured to the door to the antechamber, where the twelve Governors, Whitethorn and the Founders and Merlin all filed into. As he entered, Merlin muttered a quick spell, and cast a cloak of invisibility around himself. He wanted to remain unnoticed as much as possible. Besides, he was neither a Founder nor a Governor. By rights he shouldn't even be here.

The Governors soon sat themselves down at the large table where they had been eating their meals, some pulled out parchment and quills, and others looked around curiously. Merlin stood silently in the corner, watching and evaluating each one.

"Now," said the apparent leader, "down to business. I hereby call this meeting to order."

"And who made you our leader, Pollux?" the one introduced to Merlin as Lord Farrall Abbot asked. "Should we not take a vote?"

Pollux barely repressed his scowl. "I am the leader of the Wizards' Council's delegation and-"

"-that does not give you the right to lead the rest of us, you're perfectly right," said Lady Silena Flint swiftly. "So good of you to bring that up. Now, I would suggest Lord Farrall as our leader. He is after all, one of the only ones here who has a child who will actually be attending the school this year and also has experience in tutoring his own children first-hand. Surely that makes him the best qualified?"

"And I suggest myself as the leader," Pollux said, glaring at her. "Who shall vote for me, the one who has the  _blessing_  of the Wizards' Council?"

All the Wizards' Council delegation raised their hands.

"And all here who shall vote for the most  _experienced_  parent amongst us?" Lady Silena asked.

The other six members raised their hands, including Elred who looked a little confused.

Lady Silena counted the hands. "Ah, a tie. I feared that would happen, but the Council  _did_  insist on having twelve members. Headmaster Whitethorn, you shall have the deciding vote."

Whitethorn glanced between the two candidates, his grey eyes calculating. "I say Lord Farrall."

"Then that is settled."

"Wait a moment!" thundered Pollux. "Who says the Headmaster has the deciding vote?"

"I did," said Lady Silena, scratching away furiously with her quill, "and I suggest we add that little rule to the Charter which we draw up on this day. We cannot have a committee with an even number casting votes, now, can we? In most circumstances, the head of the committee will have the deciding vote, but when it comes to electing the head of the committee itself, the Headmaster shall decide. Any objections?"

No one raised their hand, probably too stunned to speak.

"Excellent," she said, "then it is decided. Lord Farrall is the Chair of this committee." She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the scroll of parchment, and it rose up into the air with her quill and began rapidly writing away. "We shall now begin the meeting and decide on how this committee shall function and record it all this day."

The others stared at her, and Merlin stuffed his fist in his mouth to stop from laughing. Godric and Salazar exchanged a gleeful glance as they congratulated themselves on choosing such a woman to be a Governor.

Lord Farrall nodded at her, and cleared his throat.

"Now, that the issue is resolved," he said, looking amused, "we should continue with the meeting. We are here to have the final review on the curriculum offered by the Founders, agree on the limitations of the Board of Governors and the Headmaster and to what extent we are allowed to interfere if we see that there is sufficient cause."

"Does the school have a name yet?"" one of the Council representatives asked, interrupting. "It cannot be just 'the school.'"

Here, Salazar and Godric looked a little apprehensive.

"Well …" began Godric, when he realised Slytherin was about to leave it to him. "The school is called … Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

There was a momentary silence.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" asked Lucretius, staring at Godric. "Well, Cousin, no one could say you were unoriginal."

"Unoriginal?" asked Pollux incredulously. "It is ridiculous!"

"It is what we have decided," said Godric, almost growling at him. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but do we as the Founders not run this school? Do we not own it?"

"True," said Lady Silena, though she herself looked uncertain. "We are only a regulatory body." She sighed. "If it is your wish … then so be it."

Pollux and some of the others scoffed, and even Elred looked a little uncertain, but the matter seemed closed. Salazar was practically grinning with delight at the scandalised looks of horror on their faces.

"So what rights does the Board have then?" asked Saul Weathercroft, the local clansman who had apparently befriended Godric during the school's early years when Godric saved him from attack by a wild boar. "Are we allowed to interfere?"

"Only if we feel the students are either in danger, at risk of being corrupted by an evil influence or being taken advantage of," said Lord Farrall. "Are we agreed?"

There was a murmuring of assent, though Merlin could tell many of the extremists were wondering what exactly 'evil influence' entailed.

"We appoint the Headmaster," said Lord Farrall, as the quill continued to jot everything down.

"-or Headmistress," Lady Silena added.

"Or Headmistress," Lord Farrall agreed, "and that must be done by unanimous vote after careful selection. We shall also have the right to remove said Headmaster-"

"-or Headmistress,"

"Or Headmistress," he said, getting louder, "if that Headmaster, or Headmistress, proves themselves to be unable to fulfill their duties, wherein the Deputy Head shall take over until a new one can be appointed. In their lifetime, each of the Founders, in addition to heading their House, shall be a deputy Headmaster or Headmistress and shall decide amongst themselves who should take over should the need arise."

"And when else are we allowed to interfere?" one of the Council representatives asked.

"Preferably not too often," said Saul Weathercroft, smiling at the Council member though not quite concealing a deep dislike. "Children shall never learn if government keeps shoving its nose in."

"And what would a local farmer know of government?"

"More than you think," Saul said, glaring at the man, who seemed to back down in a hurry. He turned to Lord Farrall. "The Board should be as non-interfering as possible, and only step forwards if there is no other conceivable option."

"Agreed," said Lillias Greenwood, her voice tinged with the same accent as Rowena's. "We should meet before the start of term every year to review the situation, and have regular correspondence with the Headmaster, only meeting when the occasion arises."

"And do we have a final say on who is admitted?" Pollux asked, sneering at Lillias, who Merlin just remembered, was a Muggle-Born.

"Everyone is admitted,' said Lord Farrall loudly, forcing everyone to look at him. "The Founders alone have final control over this. Unless any they deem worthy to attend show a security risk, they and their decisions shall be left alone."

"You think Muggle-Borns don't pose a security risk?" Pollux asked. "I think they do."

Godric seemed ready to fly at the man with his sword, but Salazar held him back. Merlin watched him anxiously; Salazar struggled with the matter of the trustworthiness of Muggle-Borns, would he be able to restrain himself?

"They do not!" Elred said, and looked suddenly anxious as everyone looked at him. "I only mean ..." he gulped slightly at the sight of so many Lords and Ladies looking at him. "I've seen the Muggle-Born children in the village. They are desperate to learn magic so that they can feel like they belong. They have no loyalty to the Muggles who abandoned them. They should not be denied the opportunity to attend." He finished, somewhat hesitantly.

Saul smiled at him. "Well said!"

"Very well," said Lady Silena, "I for one do not want to restrict the rights of these children. Unless they demonstrate in no uncertain terms that they cannot be trusted we should give them the benefit of the doubt. Therefore, the Founders ruling on this is final. We have no say in who is admitted."

Pollux did not look happy. "Alright," he said. "But we can interfere with what is taught."

"Only if we find it to be unsuitable," said Lord Farrall.

"I find teaching children that Muggles can be kind and generous people to be unsuitable," said Pollux. "It is dangerous."

"Does anyone else feel that it is dangerous to teach children how to interact safely with Muggles?" Lady Silena asked, talking loudly over Pollux.

Four members of the Council delegation raised their hand, but everyone else shook their heads. Lady Silena smiled.

"Then Muggle Studies shall continue." She looked down at the parchment before her. "As for the other subjects …"

She passed out a few scrolls, each with an outline of each subject drawn up by the teachers that morning. "I find them all to be adequate," she said, "though I still question the teaching of Divination. Has anyone any objections?"

"Yes, I-"

"Anything other than what is written on the Muggle Studies scroll?" Lady Silena added, scowling at Pollux.

No one spoke. "Excellent," she said, rolling up her own scroll. "Then that is settled."

She summoned the scrolls back to her, thankfully not even noticing that Elred's had been untouched due to the illiteracy he was trying desperately to conceal.

"Now," she said. "The matter of the school's funding …"

"The Wizards' Council has pledged to give a lump sum of money to the school every year," Pollux said, though he looked very unhappy about it. "But we shall not give any more than that. We will not provide for it entirely."

"We don't ask you to," said Godric. "The fortunes inherited by myself, Lady Helga and Lord Salazar have funded the construction of the school."

"And when that money runs out?" Pollux asked. "How then shall you survive?"

"Several families have pledged to contribute voluntarily," said Salazar. "After all, this school is for  _everyone_. The school shall be publicly run."

"So, it is a charity?" asked one of the Council representatives.

"No," growled Godric, "it is a public investment."

"I see," said Pollux, scribbling something down. "And what about those families who do not have money? Shall their children be turned away? After all, if they contributed nothing …"

"They will continue to contribute nothing until they have enough money to do so, and giving them an education will be the way to do that," said Lady Silena. "It may take time, but I believe it shall pay itself off."

"And what about the poorer children right now?" asked Elred, looking a little braver now. "I mean, paying for Tomin's wand cost us a great deal. Many others won't be able to afford it."

"We have already remedied that," said Godric. "There would be a school fund that can provide for the poorer children."

"It seems the poorer children are getting the best out of this arrangement," said Pollux. "Free education ... free wands …"

"We have a moral duty to them,' said Lillias Greenwood. "They will never progress in life and earn their way properly if they are not given a chance."

"I agree," said Lady Silena. "If the richer students can pay for their own equipment, then let them do so. For the others, it is a matter of discretion for the Founders."

"The Wizards' Councils' money is not going to be used to give wands to farm boys," Pollux said, going red with anger.

Lady Silena just fixed him with a cold stare. "This Board is for the well-being of the students. Not a forum for political representation.  _The matter shall be left to the Founders_."

She stood up and looked around at everyone seated beside her. "Frankly, I found this meeting to be a waste of time," she said. "But the Wizards' Council did insist. The school, Hog … Hogwarts, shall remain free of government interference as long as the children here are protected and cared for. We all know our duties. Unless some student is killed by a teacher in the middle of a lesson, I do not want to hear another word from any of you until our yearly review. Now, if Lord Farrall will consent to adjourn the meeting, I suggest we ask our Founders here to grant us a tour of this magnificent school of theirs. I have high hopes, very high indeed."

Lord Farrall nodded at her. "The meeting is adjourned."

"Wait a moment-"

"Good day, Pollux," she said, and swept out of the room, leaving a stunned silence behind her. Merlin almost found himself laughing again. He should never have had to worry about the Governors taking control of the school, with Lady Silena around he needn't worry; they were all terrified of her!

Rowena had been the one to suggest her, he remembered. He would have to thank her for that.

One by one, the Governors left the room, some grumbling, and others looking excited at the prospect of a tour. Eventually, Merlin was left in the room with just Salazar, Godric and Elred. Merlin undid his spell and shimmered back into view.

Elred jumped about a foot in the air as he approached. "Emrys! Where did you come from?"

"Nowhere," he shrugged. He grinned at him. "That was brilliant, Elred."

But Elred did not look happy. "I barely did anything," he moaned. "And I couldn't even read those lesson plans. What use am I?"

"You stood up for the Muggle-Borns," Godric reminded him, "and that is worth far more than reading a few words on parchment."

"I'll teach you to read if you like," said Merlin, "but don't feel inferior because of it. The meeting may be over for this year, but perhaps next year we'll need you again to fight the side of the Muggle-Borns. They think they can win, but they can't. Nobility aren't everything they're made out to be. Mostly they're just arrogant old fools who drink and eat too much."

"Hey!" said Salazar and Godric simultaneously. "We're not all like that!"

Elred was smiling. "Maybe you're right," he stood up and sighed. "I'd best get back. I've got so much work to do!"

Merlin watched him go. "It could have gone worse," he said.

Godric nodded. "Thank goodness we have Lady Silena on our side!"

"Just so long as she remains on our side," said Salazar darkly, and the two of them left the room to begin the tours.

* * *

 

"Well, that wasn't up to your usual standard , was it?" Merlin teased as another one of Rowena's spells went wrong.

"You're distracting me," Rowena complained, glaring at him. "You're too close."

"And why should that distract you?"

"You know perfectly well why."

Merlin grinned, and moved a little closer. "I'd still like to hear you say it."

"Get used to disappointment."

Merlin laughed and moved away, though reluctantly. "Very well, I'll be entirely professional. Now, try again."

Rowena nodded, and held out her wand and muttered the spell once more. The bowl of water before her shuddered as the water rose up independently from the bowl and hung in the air. Rowena watched it intently.

"Now," Merlin said. "Make it into a shape."

Her brow furrowed in concentration. Slowly, ever so slowly the water shifted to show the shape of a bird in flight. However, it began to tremble once more.

"I cannot hold it," she said.

"Be gentler," he told her. "Don't try to control the water,  _feel_  it. Don't try to force it, just … nudge it."

"Your instructions make no sense," grumbled Rowena, but, it seemed to pay off, and the bird shape stayed steady.

"Now, lower it down into the bowl."

The bird began to drift slowly down, before suddenly, it splashed down, sending water flying over the books on the table.

Rowena leapt to her feet with a look of dismay on her face.

"I do not understand!" she said, trying to mop up the water with her sleeve. "I can already do water spells!"

"Sending a stream of water towards a fire is all very well, but it does not require a great deal of control," Merlin said. "Practice. Controlling water is completely different from controlling fire. Fire is angry, and needs restraint, water needs to be guided, not forced. Keep trying , though perhaps not with so many books around."

"They will be ruined!" Rowena said miserably.

"No," said Merlin, moving forward and placing his hand on the cover of a soaked book. " _Drȳgan."_

A split second later, and the pages were completely dry and undamaged. Rowena slumped. "Why can I not do that?"

"Because I've had years of practice," Merlin said.  _Centuries of practice, actually._  "Whether you like it or not, you are a novice. Don't get too far ahead of yourself."

She did not like being referred to as a novice, he could see, so he tried to change the subject.

"Here," he said, passing her one of the books. He opened it to a page in the middle. "Ancient Runes. Translate this for me."

She sat back at the table and frowned as she bent over the book, her mouth moving silently as she read.

"The Potion of Sleep … should always … always … stew for several days before … consumption. Too large an ... amount, and the … patient shall sleep for … for …"

"Eternity," Merlin finished, smiling. "You've made good progress."

"Not good enough," she sighed. "Once the school opens I won't have any time at all for studying."

"But you'll be doing far more useful things," Merlin said.

"Are you saying Ancient Runes is not useful?"

"I am," he said. "There are very few people who can read it."

"Then even more important that I learn it," she said. "I cannot abide it when knowledge is lost."

He smiled ruefully.  _If only you were the ones I was waiting for. I know I could trust you to make sure the knowledge of the Old Religion is never forgotten again_.

"Are you looking forwards to tomorrow?" he asked. "It shall be a momentous occasion."

She was silent for a moment. "I would never tell the others this," she said, looking down at the desk, "but I never seem to be able to lie to you. In actual fact, I am terrified."

He frowned, and moved closer in concern. "Terrified? Of what? It is unlike you to be afraid, and even less like you to admit it."

"I am afraid of failure," she said. "I always have been. I have always been driven to be perfect, and now, when I have the chance to prove myself to the world, I fear that I may be found wanting. I have spent so long longing for this moment, now that it is here …"

"You wonder whether you are really suitable for the job," Merlin finished. "You always act so strong, Rowena, but you are always under confident. You have no reason to be."

"Haven't I proven just this evening that I am not as powerful as I think I am?" Rowena asked, gesturing to the puddle of water.

"No one is perfect, Rowena," he said gently. "We are all human. But recognising our faults is the first step to overcoming them. There is no shame in being less than perfect."

"You are," she said bitterly. "You showed up out of the blue and saved my daughter's life, you taught us all powerful magic, the only one in the world able to do so and helped us found our own school."

"I am not perfect," said Merlin, "in fact, I am far from it. I have my demons as well."

He leaned a little closer. "But I feel them less when I am with you. Take strength from others around you instead of berating yourself. It is how I manage to survive with my own insecurities and failings."

She looked at him. "And what failings are those?"

Merlin flinched.  _Just allowing my best friend to die, that's all._

"I cannot move on from my past,' he admitted to her. "And I fear I never shall. But …although it is often hard … I cannot allow that guilt to rule me, at least, not all of the time. You make me forget it. No one else ever has."

She managed a small smile at this, and reached down hesitantly, and took his hand, squeezing it gently.

"Then we are both broken souls," she said. "They do say misery loves company."

"Perhaps," he said. "They always say a problem shared is a problem halved. Perhaps there is just enough good between us both to create one perfect person."

She smiled, and he slowly raised her hand and kissed it gently, never taking his eyes off her face. His dream of Freya the previous night came back to him. Helga had been right that morning; he had been denied happiness with Freya, and here was his chance to seize it with someone else, at least for a little while. It was what she would have wanted.

Suddenly, his magic spiked, and the sensed a presence behind him. He dropped Rowena's hand and turned to find Helga standing there, an amused smile on her face.

"Busy?" she asked innocently.

"No," said Merlin and Rowena immediately, both of them flushing slightly.

"Well, you should be," said Helga, suddenly stern. "The school is opening tomorrow! Get busy!"

Merlin winked at Rowena before standing up. "Let's get started then."


	25. The Opening

"Master Emrys! Master Emrys!" A house-elf came running up to Merlin in the library. "Come quickly! Master Emrys!"

"What's wrong?" Merlin asked, looking in concern at the elf who was breathing heavily and staring at him with wild eyes as he hopped nervously from foot to foot.

"Come! Come!" the elf just squeaked, and ran out of the room. Merlin immediately got up and followed, barely managing to keep up with the elf's hurried pace. He turned onto the marble staircase and immediately saw what was wrong.

There was absolute chaos in the Entrance Hall. Scrolls of parchment and quills were lying haphazard around the room, with smashed bottles of ink lying in pools on the floor. Helga, Rowena and most of the teachers were running around with the house-elves in a panic trying to clear up the mess, all the while more ink and scrolls rained down on them from above, along with several rugs, lit candles, vases and pieces of furniture. Peeves was lurking around the ceiling, more and more items magically appearing into his hand as he threw it. There was a malevolent smirk on his face.

Godric and the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Kerr, were firing hexes at him from below, trying to get near enough to grab him, but Peeves just swooped around cackling fiercely, easily evading them.

"PEEVES!" roared Godric, his face red in anger. "Stop this right now or I'll-"

A bottle of ink hit him straight in the face and he fell back stunned for a moment, ink steadily dripping down into his newly grown beard.

Peeves continued to cackle. He threw a small stool at a house-elf who shrieked and ducked out of the way.

"Little old Peevsie isn't allowed at the Feast!" Peeves said, aiming another stool. "Why should Peeves help the Founders? Ickle students won't have a castle to come to!"

Merlin wasn't really sure how to react. The school was getting wrecked, just hours before it was due to open, but then again … the sight of Rowena covered in ink and glaring daggers at the floating poltergeist was rather amusing.

Godric had regained his feet and pointed his wand sharply at Peeves. "I'll get you for this!  _Impedimenta!"_

The spell easily missed Peeves, who turned upside down and blew a raspberry.

"PEEVES!" a new voice joined the foray.

Salazar was marching up from the dungeon entrance, glowering at the form before him. Peeves, miraculously, stopped dead.

"Get out of here, Peeves," Salazar said, fixing him with a rather frightening glare. "Leave, or I'll make you regret it."

Peeves actually looked worried. He hung in mid-air for a few moments, scowled and threw one last bottle of ink and disappeared.

"How the  _hell_ did you do that?" Godric demanded, wheeling around to face Salazar.

He shrugged. "You just have to know how to deal with him, that's all. Throwing spells at him is what he wants. You have to take a more subtle approach."

Godric shook his head. "No, there's an art to it, and you're just not telling me."

Salazar smiled. "Where would be the fun in telling you?"

"Now will you consent to have him exorcised?" Helga asked, her yellow dress seeped in ink. "He's a menace!"

Godric looked aghast. "Certainly not!"

"But-"

"Where's the fun in the challenge if you just get rid of the obstacle?" Godric asked. "He will prove a worthy adversary, both for me and for future students."

"He could end up killing one!"

"Then what better way to teach them to defend themselves?" Godric asked. He put his wand back into his stained robes and glanced around the room. "Well … this isn't exactly ideal …"

"Ideal?" asked Rowena furiously. "The students will be arriving this evening! What will we do?"

"I'll help," offered Merlin, finally going down the stairs. "I know a few spells that can clear all this away."

Rowena cast him a sideways glance. "And where were you during the fight?"

"Observing," he answered with a smug smirk. "I didn't want to get my own robes dirty."

Quick as a flash, Rowena whipped out her wand, her eyes burned gold and a discarded bottle of ink tipped itself over Merlin's head.

"And  _I_  just observed  _that,"_ she hissed, still looking furious, even as Merlin blinked the ink out of his eyes.

"Rowena!" Helga reprimanded in a scandalised tone, though touched with a hint of amusement. "That was very immature."

Rowena nodded, looking straight at Merlin. "Well, Emrys is always encouraging me to embrace my inner child."

"So I am," he said, fighting back a smile, despite the ink now dripping down his neck. "I'll watch out for that in future."

She almost smiled back, a mischievous glint in her eye.

The other teachers had begun to clear away the furniture, repairing where needed, and Helga bent down and lifted some of the parchment. "It's all ruined," she said, sounding deflated. "We'll have to order more!"

"No need," said Merlin taking the ink stained parchment from her. He placed his hand over it and muttered: " _Feormian."_

The ink immediately vanished from the parchment, leaving it as good as new. He passed it back to Helga who smiled.

"Thank you, I shall have to remember that one. It won't help us with our shortage of ink however."

Merlin smiled, and he lifted his hand over an ink puddle on the ground surrounding a smashed flask. " _Fæstnian. Eftsīð fram hwanon ēow becuman."_

The ink rose up in a black wave as the bottle moulded itself back together. The ink fell cleanly into the bottle as good as new, if somewhat dusty.

"You really have a spell for everything don't you?" Rowena said, almost admiringly. "But do you have one that would get these ink stains out of my hair and robes?

"Certainly," said Merlin, his eyes flashing.

The next moment, Rowena was drenched in a huge wave of water that fell on her from above. She shrieked as the cold water hit her, and stood there gasping, her robes and hair sodden.

"Of course, you will need a few more treatments to get the worst of it out," said Merlin, trying not to laugh at her expression of shock. "Would you like me to-"

Rowena immediately whipped out her wand and pointed it to him, armed with a sudden glare. "Don't even try it, Emrys," she warned, even as more watery blank ink ran down her face.

Merlin nodded. "Fine," he said, shaking with laughter.

She shook her head, apparently frustrated with his immaturity and stormed off, giving orders to the several ink-stained house-elves who were running around with mops.

Helga was giggling, even though she herself was covered in ink. "This isn't the best start to the day," she said. "But, I never expected it to go smoothly. I'll clear up in here with those spells, you'd best get to your own work."

"I don't really have any," Merlin said. "I don't have lessons to prepare like you do; the four of you won't be undertaking any Old Magic lessons until the students have settled in."

"Then go to the village," she said. "Greet the students that are arriving and … well, try to keep them all in order. Help Elred with all the robes. Have them all meet at the inn or somewhere, give them a little information about the school and then lead them up here at dusk when I send you a sign. If we're ready by then," she said, sighing as she looked around. She shrugged. "They'll be afraid and a little intimidated, help them adjust before they come up to the castle."

"I thought I wasn't going to be a member of staff?" Merlin asked.

"You're just helping," she said, pointing her wand at some broken furniture. "I will be incredibly busy, and Salazar, Godric and Rowena would just intimidate them. Please?"

"Very well," he said. "I'd better leave in any case. Rowena will find some way of getting her own back."

Helga shook her head. "Just when I think the two of you are getting along … I am afraid I cannot understand your relationship."

"Neither can I," Merlin said absent-mindedly, watching Rowena from afar as she tried to dry her dress with a warm air charm he had taught her. He hoped she was more successful than the last time she had attempted it; she had set her dress on fire.

Helga cleared her throat, and Merlin jumped, only just realising he had been staring. A faint blush came over his cheeks, and he shifted uncomfortably. "I'll just go down to the village then …"

She nodded, her smile a little too knowing. "See you at the Feast."

He turned and left before he could get distracted again, and strode out of the open doors and across the grounds towards the path leading to the village. It was a beautiful summer afternoon, the sun beating down warm and welcoming. The presence of the sunshine seemed to make the grounds seem happierthan normal as it shone through the trees and cast green light onto the ground below. It was a marked change from the castle steeped in winter that Merlin had arrived at several months before. It was almost though the school itself was coming to life the closer it got to welcoming its students.

Just as he was thinking this, he heard a soft snuffling sound coming from somewhere through the trees. He stopped immediately, knowing that this was no woodland animal, and cast out his magical senses for danger. He relaxed as he discovered what it was.

He turned off the path and continued through the trees, searching, until he found what he was looking for. Helena Ravenclaw was sitting by a small stream, her robes dirty as though she had just fallen, sniffing loudly and rubbing her eyes which were red-rimmed and puffy.

"You know," he said, making her jump about a foot in the air, "I've heard there are big dangerous animals in these woods that eat little girls like you for breakfast whenever they wander in here alone."

"I am not afraid," she insisted, sticking up her nose in the air in a proud manner that was so reminiscent of her mother that Merlin couldn't help but laugh.

"You should be," he said, inching closer, and bending down to her level. "Look at this stream. It might have Grindylows in it."

Helena looked worried for a moment, before shaking her head. "Grindylows only live in lakes," she said, but she sounded uncertain.

"This stream runs into a lake," he said. "Maybe it came upstream looking for little girls to eat."

"They only eat fish," she said, though she had pulled her legs far away from the stream.

"You know a lot about Grindylows."

"My mama and Scáthach tell me," she answered.

"You like learning then?"

"Yes!" she said, her eyes lit up. "I want to know everything. I want to be just as smart as mama!"

Merlin smiled. "You'll have to be  _very_  smart to do that."

"I will," she promised him. "I'll be smarter than she is. People like my mama because she's so smart. They'll like me too."

"They respect you mama," Merlin said, "but respect and like are two different things. If you want to be as smart as she is you'll have to work hard. You'll go to school here when you're old enough."

At the mention of the school, Helena seemed to huff. She frowned, looking back down at the water.

"Aren't you happy about the school?" Merlin asked her. "You'll be able to learn so many things."

"I'd rather my mama taught me," Helena said, almost sadly. "She won't have time any more. There'll be other children here, and she'll forget all about me."

"She would never forget about you," Merlin said, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. "You're her daughter. She'll always care more about you than all the other children."

Helena sniffed loudly, and a tear fell from her eye.

"But she likes this school more than she likes me," she said miserably. "She hasn't played with me for a while. She doesn't care any more."

"That's nonsense," said Merlin. "She loves you a lot, Helena. She's just busy with the school for now. And you'll just have to be patient for a little while. This means a lot to her, and she'll need your help. But if you're unhappy, then she'll be unhappy."

"There's going to a lot of children though," Helena said. "She won't have time for me."

"Maybe not at first," said Merlin. "But once things settle down, she'll be able to spend more time with you. Until then, you'll have to make do with me. And you've always got Scáthach!"

Helena made a face, and Merlin laughed. "Alright," he said, "I take your meaning. Where is she anyway?"

"I ran away from her," Helena said, looking ashamed. "I wanted to be alone. And all the new people scare me.

"Do you always run away when you're scared?"

"Sometimes," she said. "But people always find me. One day I'll run away to a far off land and  _no one_  will be able to find me."

"I'm sure Scáthach will," Merlin said. "That woman's as tough as nails." He stood up, took Helena's hand and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, let's find her. She'll be out of her mind with worry."

It seemed however, that there was no need. Scáthach herself came charging through the trees, her usually pristine appearance now ruined, her face haggard and frantic. She latched eyes on Helena and ran towards her, screeching in Gaelic.

"You naughty child! Never do that again!"

She then noticed Merlin and glared at him. "I had nothing to do with it," he said in Gaelic, raising his hands. "I just found her."

Scáthach gave him one last glare before attending to Helena, trying to brush the worst of the dirt and grit from her dress. "You shouldn't wander off," she reprimanded her. "Not today of all days. We don't need to worry your mother." She examined her head to toe. "No good, you'll need to go for a proper bath. Get back to the castle."

Helena cast one despairing look at Merlin before headed back through the trees. Scáthach turned to follow her, when Merlin spoke.

"Let her get to know the teachers," he said to her. "Hogwarts is her home and always has been. Now she'll be sharing it with strangers. Help her to adjust. She feels lonely."

Scáthach did nothing more than glare at him and as usual, pretended she could not hear or understand him, despite the fact he had spoken to her in her own language. But, as she turned to head back to the castle, he thought he saw a brief nod.

Merlin stood there for a moment, worried. Rowena would have to be careful not to neglect her daughter in the coming weeks. She may be busy, and Helena may have Scáthach and the house-elves to look after her, but she needed bonding time with her mother, time which Rowena may be hard pushed to find.

Shaking himself out of these thoughts, he turned and found his way back to the path down to the village. Before long, he had passed through the gates and headed straight to Elred's house, passing several excited looking children on his way. He knocked at the door, and after a few moments Tomin answered it.

"Is Elred here?"

Tomin nodded, but grimaced. "He's …"

"I understand," said Merlin, and stepped up and through the door. Inside, the room looked like a storm had blown through it. Scraps of black fabric were lying everywhere like bats hanging over the backs of chairs and tables. Elred and Hilda were in the middle of this chaos, their wands twirling through the air as black material sewed itself in midair, faster than the human eye could see. Two rather baffled looking children were standing in the middle of this, glancing at each other uncertainly.

Finally, Elred and Hilda finished, and took the robes, which also had the new Hogwarts crest embroidered on it and threw it none-too-gently over the heads of the waiting children, and began to pin it into place, tapping the hems with their wands to adjust the length of the fabric. They stood back and examined the children critically.

"Perfect," he announced. "Now, take these with you and wear them up to the castle this evening. I'll come up in a few days with spare sets when I get the time." He nodded to Tomin. "Take their names and their measurements for me, will you?"

Tomin nodded, and ran over to some parchment and a quill on the one bare corner of the table and scribbled down some words and numbers, looking thrilled at being useful.

Elred turned to Merlin and wiped the sweat from his brow. "That's ninety five!" he said, gesturing to the two children. "I've been working for hours and hours!"

"The Founders will pay you handsomely," Merlin promised.

"It isn't that," he said. "We've still got fifteen more by your count, and there's no more children to be found in the village. The others haven't arrived yet!"

"They will," said Merlin, even as there was a knock at the door.

Hilda jumped and hurried to the door, where around six children were standing on the doorstep.

"The other children said we have to come here for-"

"Yes, yes," said Hilda, harried. "Come in then, hurry up."

The children were herded in to the small room, whilst the two children already fitted out were steered towards the door and out into the street, still looking bewildered.

"Who's first?"

"Do you need some help?" Merlin asked, trying not to laugh at the life-or-death expressions Hilda and Elred were both wearing.

"No, no, dear," Hilda said, making a young girl and a boy stand up on some stools and taking some measurements. "We'll manage. The other children are gathering at Nessa's inn. You should go and talk to them."

Merlin nodded, privately feeling sorry for the children who were now being poked and prodded with pins.

He left, and turned towards the inn, noting that indeed there were far more children congregated in this area. Some of the local residents were eying them with disapproval, probably annoyed they couldn't get inside for their mead. Some of the poorer children, some of them already wearing their robes (far more luxurious clothing any of them were used to), were playing outside. All the richer ones seemed to have appropriated the common area in the inn. He squeezed inside, to see a sea of black. Everyone was chattering excitedly. House-elves from the castle had come down here earlier and were serving everyone with cold drinks and refreshments, while Nessa the barmaid tried to keep the peace. Despite the uniform, the noble children were immediately evident; they sat on heavy and ornamented trunks, some even having noble owls in cages, giving house-elves casual orders, whilst the poorer children sat on small patched bags and stared at the elves in astonishment, having never seen anything like them before.

Merlin moved to the head of the room and to the bar where Nessa stood, watching the children with narrowed eyes. She muttered a curse in Gaelic.

"I do not like this," she said. "There are too many. I can manage the ones that have been staying for the last three days, but more keep arriving! They cannot all come here. What will happen next year when there are even more?"

"We'll have to think of something," Merlin agreed. "Perhaps we can convince some of the townspeople to take in one or two in the days before term starts next year?"

"Good luck," she said. She sounded unusually irritated.

"Don't worry, they'll all be gone by this afternoon."

"Good," she said. "You can watch them until then."

She moved off to speak to one of the Muggle-Born children who was now poking a house-elf with her wand, looking surprised when he found it could talk.

Merlin tried not to chuckle. The Muggle-Born children were also obvious. They looked the most relieved to be here. They looked around amazed to find so many others like themselves. They sat staring at their wands in awe. The Founders had arranged with the local wand-maker to have wands provided to all those who could not afford one. The upper-class children of course already had their own, of Ollivander's make, which was far better than this local wandmaker's.

He sat watching over the room for a long time, Nessa bringing him a light lunch as he observed every student in the room. Some looked nervous, some were calm, some terrified, some confused, but all excited. Soon everyone in the room was wearing their new Hogwarts robes, examining the crest in interest. The richer children looked at the robes uncertainly, although the poor children saw the robes as luxurious, the richer ones saw them as substandard, and of mediocre quality.

He tried to count the children in the room, but soon lost count, as they ran around the room, squeezing past each other and laughing excitedly. He chose to just sit and watch, and only occasionally speaking to them when needed. He probed out with his magic, determining the magical ability of all the children in the room. All of them had great potential, and most of it was untapped. Of course, none were as powerful as the Founders. He couldn't help but grin to look at their faces; soon their lives would be changed forever.

The light began to grow dimmer outside, and as dusk began to fall, the chattering increased. The children who had been playing outside now came inside, the room becoming almost unbearably crowded with so many people inside. Merlin bided his time, even as the darkness began to increase. Eventually, the door opened and Elred squeezed in, guiding about ten children including Tomin in front of him, all wearing their robes. He caught Merlin's eye over the crowd and nodded. "All done," he mouthed, and smiled, looking exhausted. At almost the exact same moment, there was a flash of fire, and a single feather was deposited on the table next to him, one that Merlin immediately recognised as coming from Godric's phoenix. It was time.

Merlin nodded back, and stood up, moving to a spot where everyone would be able to see him. He had barely cleared his throat, when everyone fell silent, watching him with barely concealed eagerness.

He smiled at them, despite feeling nervous in front of so many people; he'd always shied away from large crowds since Camelot's day.

"Good evening," he said. "It is time for you all now to head up to the castle to begin your school year. You will all follow me up the path to the castle where you'll attend the Opening Feast and the Founders shall speak to you in person."

All of the children immediately perked up at the mention of a Feast.

"What about our luggage?" asked one wealthy girl, gesturing to two large trunks.

Merlin glanced to the house-elves. "Leave your luggage here, the house-elves will attend to it."

Some of the poorer children looked amazed; they'd obviously never had anyone carry their bags for them before. Merlin nodded to Nessa who handed him several lanterns. He lit these with his wand, not wanting the children to see him use Old Magic, and handed them out to several older children to carry.

"Well," he said, looking at all their joy-filled faces. "We'd better go."

There was an immediate stampede to the door, children pushing each other out of the way to get outside. Some of the more wealthy students looked unimpressed.

"We're  _walking?_ " they asked disbelievingly. "But it's miles away!"

"We're walking," said Merlin firmly. "And unless you can sprout wings and fly up to the castle, I suggest you come."

They scowled, but followed the others out the door. They were all now gathered in the street, practically bouncing up and down in excitement. Merlin looked at them with a tinge of worry; that was a  _lot_ of children.

"I'll come with you," Elred said to Merlin. "You can't watch over a hundred children on your own."

"Thanks," said Merlin, relieved. He fought his way to the front of the crowd and set off towards the school, the children immediately following in his wake, making him feel like some sort of strange mother duck.

The darkness seemed to close in around them, driven off only by the light of the lanterns they were carrying and the light of the first stars appearing above. Merlin couldn't help but grin as he walked. Somehow, this felt important. These were the very first students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he was leading them to the place that would change everything for them. All his instincts were letting him know how significant this was. The Founders may not be the ones that he'd hoped for, but this school was important somehow for the both the Old Religion and sorcerers everywhere. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Eventually, the trees began to open slightly, and the lake and the castle looming over it began to come into view. Merlin stopped and turned to grin at the students. "Welcome to your new home."

The looks on their faces said it all. Even the richer children were impressed.

The castle looked even more magnificent than usual. Finally, all the scaffolding had been taken away after the Astronomy Tower had been completed the day before, and the towers stood strong and proud, looking as though they had stood for centuries. Lights blared at every window, twinkling welcomingly in the distance, casting rippling lights over the lake. As the first time Merlin had seen it, he was blown away by it. The Old Religion tingled inside of him.

The children were all staring at it open-mouthed, even the children who had already been to the castle for lessons with Helga and Rowena were speechless.

"We get to live  _here_?" squeaked one young girl. "All of  _that_  for us?"

"Yes," Merlin said. "You will eat, sleep, study and play in that castle. It is yours."

He allowed them a few more moments of awed silence, before he turned to the path and continued up to the main gates. He fell back a little to speak to Elred. Tomin was walking shyly beside him, looking up at the castle with a gleam in his eyes.

"You know, Emrys," Elred said, "it might be quicker for students to cross via the lake."

Merlin frowned as he looked. "Perhaps," he said, "it is a more direct route. But I for one don't want to watch over dozens of boats on a lake in the middle of the night."

"Well, maybe only some of them, then," said Elred. "Next year perhaps the newer students can cross by the lake while the others take carriages from the village. When the school gets bigger they can't all walk up here."

"I don't think we have enough horses in the school stables to pull all those carriages," Merlin said. "But I'll pass along your idea to the Founders. Maybe they'll be able to use it."

Elred nodded, looking thrilled at the fact one of his ideas may be used. The rest of the journey passed in much the same manner. The children kept pointing up at the castle looking amazed and having whispered conversations with their friends. Merlin walked in front, getting excited himself the closer he got to the castle.

Finally, they passed through the massive school gates and were soon at the great doors. He pushed them open and led the children into the Entrance Hall, which miraculously showed no sign of Peeves' earlier temper tantrum. They all huddled together looking absolutely amazed and suddenly feeling very small. A couple of house-elves scurried forwards bowing, and took the lanterns from the children, and the bag from the one child who had carried hers, apparently not believing him when he said it would be brought up for her.

"Will you stay for the Feast?" Merlin asked Elred. "You're more than welcome."

"I'll go back," Elred said. "Hilda would never forgive me for going without her. Besides, I'm exhausted! And I've still got spare robes to make!"

"Don't rush yourself," Merlin said, "relax for a while. You're a saviour for doing this much so quickly. You and Hilda both."

Elred just smiled tiredly, gave Tomin a parting hug, and turned and left, whistling to himself.

Merlin moved them all over to the doors leading to the Great Hall, and stopped. He turned to face them. "Behind these doors lies the Great Hall," he said, pointing to the room beyond.

"You mean  _this_  isn't the Great Hall?" one child asked disbelievingly. "How can a hall get greater than this one?"

Merlin laughed. "You'll see," he said. "There'll be four long tables in here. Just sit at any one for now. The teachers and the Founders will be at the table at the top of the hall. They will speak a few words to you and then the Feast will begin." He placed his hand on the door. "Prepare yourselves," he said, and pushed open the doors.

Merlin had thought he'd be prepared for what he saw beyond, but even he almost stopped in amazement with the children. The four long House tables were gleaming, golden plates and goblets sparkling brightly. Hundreds upon hundreds of candles, as Helga had wanted, were floating several feet above these tables, making the light beam off the golden plates. They shone so brightly it was only outmatched by the stars directly above. As Helga had dreamed, the room seemed to open directly into the sky above, and the light of many stars were already scattered across the ceiling. True, he had seen the ceiling, the floating candles and the golden plates before but nothing could have prepared him for how they all looked together. It was breathtaking.

The students gasped audibly, and began to talk in thrilled voices, pointing at every corner of the room and exclaiming in wonder. Some were also pointing at the top table. The teachers were all sitting there in a line facing the double doors, watching the children with a mixture of pleasant smiles, and appraising looks.

In the centre of this long table the four Founders were sitting on golden chairs, dressed in their finest, wearing the colours of their Houses. Godric and Helga were smiling warmly at the children, while Rowena and Salazar, as guarded as ever, just watched them calmly, only a slight indication of their joy at being here apparent by the way their eyes seemed to sparkle even from this distance.

Merlin caught Rowena's eye and winked. She smiled briefly and looked down at the plate before her.

The children, after their initial shock, began to crowd around the tables and take their seats, looking around with wide eyes. Several began to pick up the golden plates and examine them with incredulous expressions. Merlin was sure he actually saw one girl pinch herself.

He himself made his way to the top table, where he took a seat between Rowena and the Muggle Studies teacher. He wasn't really sure he should be sitting here at all; after all, he wasn't a member of staff. But Helga had looked at him pointedly and he didn't dare disagree with her.

The students whispered amongst themselves, looking incredibly overwhelmed. Godric stood up, and held out his hands in a welcoming gesture. As they had for Merlin, the children immediately fell silent.

"Welcome," he boomed, his deep voice echoing around the room easily. "Welcome to your first year at our school! Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

There was scattered applause, but mostly people were looking a little confused and wondering if they had heard him right. Some people giggled, others looked disbelievingly at Godric, and others seemed unsure of whether the name was a joke or not. Tomin however was clapping enthusiastically, and, following his lead, the others joined in, laughing openly, but not out of condescension, rather, out of amusement.

Godric grinned, but Merlin noticed a slight blush cross Rowena's cheeks. He reached under the teacher and squeezed her hand. She turned to him and he smiled. She smiled back, shaking her head for being so silly.

"I am Lord Godric Gryffindor!" he announced, beaming at the faces below. "To my right is Lord Salazar Slytherin, and the two ladies to my left are Lady Helga Hufflepuff and Lady Rowena Ravenclaw. We are the Founders of this school and we shall be working closely with Headmaster Whitethorn to ensure your education, safety, and enjoyment whilst here at Hogwarts. I shall now pass you over to him."

Godric sat down, even as Whitethorn stood up and looked at the students seriously, but not unkindly. "Lessons shall begin tomorrow," he announced. "In time, the school will have a system whereby all eleven years olds are in first-year, and you move up through the years as you learn. But at the moment, you are all at different stages. We have had letters from some of you about your magical abilities, and the Founders have met some of you in person, and on that basis, we have placed you all into your years based on your ability. Do not be discouraged if you are the eldest by several years in your class; some of you are more experienced than others, and in time, that will soon change."

He motioned to the Founders. "Two months from now, we shall host the Sorting Ceremony. Each of the Founders shall select the students they believe embody certain qualities to be a part of their 'House'. You shall then live in your House dormitories, attend classes with your fellow House members and the House shall become like your family while you are with us. Until then, you shall sleep in the general dormitories on the fourth floor, girls in the east wing, boys in the west. When you are Sorted you shall be moved to your House dormitory. You will have the opportunity to earn House points by good behaviour, and lose them by rule-breaking. At the end of the year the House with the most House-Points shall earn a special prize."

"There is to be no magic in the corridors, no sneaking around after dark. You must all behave yourselves in class and treat your teachers and fellow students with respect. The house-elves are  _not_  your personal servants, though they shall tidy your dormitories and look after you. Treat them with respect also. The forest in the grounds is off-limits, as is the village unless you have permission to leave the grounds. You can be quite comfortable here, I assure you, if you abide by the rules. But break the rules and you shall be punished. I hope you shall enjoy your time here. Oh," he said, struck by a sudden thought, "and watch out for the poltergeist and the Giant Squid."

A few students went pale at this and clutched each other nervously. A few others grinned and looked raring to go and fight the creature. Merlin could already tell that these children would be in Godric's house.

Whitethorn smiled suddenly. "Let the feast begin!"

Then, suddenly the gleaming golden plates were filled with piles and piles of food, appearing out of nowhere. Several children squeaked and fell back in surprise, but the majority grinned and gave cries of wonder. Soon, they began tucking into the sumptuous feast in front of them. Even the wealthier children had never eaten as well as this before. Merlin thought of Tenga and the other elves; they had been so looking forward to this moment. He would have to let him know just how well their food had gone down.

Merlin glanced at Rowena and saw her trying to stop herself from grinning as freely as the children. He nudged her.

"Are you afraid anymore?" he asked her, remembering their conversation the previous night.

She shook her head, looking oddly emotional. "Not in the slightest," she said, her eyes on all of the children.

Merlin had to admit, the elves had far surpassed themselves with the food that was here. He thought it rivaled even the feasts they had had in Camelot, perhaps even surpassing them. Helena was sitting at the end of the table with her nanny, stuffing her face with the food before her, whilst Scáthach fruitlessly tried to get her to eat like a Lady.

Soon, the hall was filled with the sound of contented laughter. Some of the children had looked nervous at the prospect of so many rules, but all of that was forgotten in the light of the magnificent meal. The candles seemed to glow brighter even as great smiles were breaking out on the faces of the children.

"It's wonderful," Helga was saying, barely even touching her own food. "I could never have hoped that it would be as amazing as this."

"You got rid of Peeves then?" Merlin asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, he's sulking somewhere down in the dungeons. I couldn't care less about him right now."

Godric was listening to their conversation. "Is it everything you dreamed of, Helga?" he asked her, his expression affectionate. "Is it what you hoped for all those years ago when you first suggested it?"

"Better," she said, tears in her eyes. "And the school will only improve in the years to come."

"I'll drink to that," Salazar said, from Godric's other side.

"So will I," said Godric, but he stopped Helga from raising her own cup. "Wait a moment, Helga. I have something for you."

He motioned for a servant standing by the doors to come forwards. He was carrying a small wooden chest. Godric opened it and withdrew something from within. It was a golden cup, seemingly glowing even brighter that the other golden crockery on the table. It caught the light, and seemed to have almost fiery depths.

"I had this made for you," Godric said, handing it to Helga. "It was years ago, but I never had the right opportunity to give it to you. I think this may finally be the time."

Helga was speechless as she examined the cup in her hands. She turned it around and on it was carved an intricate badger. Her fingers trailed tenderly across it.

"I know it's your family crest," he said, looking slightly awkward now, "and to be honest, it's a relief that you chose it for your House crest as well. I thought now … with the school opening … well, I hoped you would like it."

Her face broke into a glorious smile and she laughed softly. "I love it!" she said, leaning forwards and planting a kiss on Godric's cheek. Some of the students noticed and giggled a little, but neither Godric nor Helga paid them any heed. Godric was as red as his robes.

Helga motioned for a servant to pour some wine into the cup, and she held it up. "Salazar? You were making a toast?"

Salazar laughed softly. "Where's my present, Godric?" When Godric retaliated with a glare, Salazar shrugged. "Not pretty enough am I? Oh well. Where was I? Oh, yes, to Hogwarts!"

And all four of them, along with Merlin, drank. Helga continued smiling adoringly at Godric.

Merlin cast a sidelong glance at Rowena. "And you tell me you still don't see the attraction between them?"

She laughed softly, but otherwise ignored him, and continued with her meal.

A happy glow seemed to settle around the Great Hall that evening. The children laughed, the teachers chatted freely, and the Founders looked about fit to burst with pride. Merlin felt a great satisfaction settle deep within him. This was what he had been supposed to come to Hogwarts for. The Founders may not be the ones who would bring back the Old Religion, but Merlin knew that this school would be important.

Perhaps the one Kilgharrah spoke of would one day be a student here? Would this school help to influence them in such a way that they would succeed in bringing back the Old Magic? Merlin had no doubt that this school would play a vital role in the future.

Finally, the golden plates were sparkling clean again, and Godric stood. "Now, it is time for bed," he announced, smiling around at you all. Lessons will begin after breakfast tomorrow, and I suggest you get plenty of rest. Girls, follow Lady Helga and she will show you to your dormitories. Boys, follow Emrys. Good night to you all!"

There was a great scraping sound as everyone pushed back the benches got to their feet. Merlin rounded on Godric.

"Why am I left to babysit?"

"Salazar and I must speak with Whitethorn," he said apologetically. "I know you're not technically a member of staff, but you know the place better than any of the new teachers."

Merlin sighed. "Fine."

He moved from his spot at the high table, walking towards the group of about fifty boys, ranging in age from eleven to about sixteen, all of them looking slightly nervous.

"Follow me," he said, and left the hall, avoiding Helga and the gaggle of girls she was leading and heading to the marble staircase ahead of them. The boys followed looking around in interest. They went along some corridors and up a few more staircases.

"We'll get lost!" one of the younger ones said.

"Well, then, pay attention," Merlin said. "The timetables you will get at breakfast tomorrow morning will have your classroom numbers and what floor they're on, and it will be up to you to find it. You're all intelligent, you'll figure it out."

"I already know my way around," said one of the village children rather smugly. "I've been here before."

"That doesn't count for anything," Merlin said, winking at him. "The staircases move around. Corridors change, there are trick steps, doors will lead to different areas on different days and some will just be walls pretending to be doors. It will be your job to learn all of this."

"That's impossible!" someone complained, looking at the staircase they were on as though worried it was about to move while he was on it. "How are we supposed to do that?"

"I've done it," said Merlin, "and so have the teachers, more or less. "Blame Lady Rowena for the idea; she thinks it will make you more observant and logical. There is a distinct pattern to it you'll need to discover. But don't worry, there's always a house-elf or two wandering around who'll point you in the right direction. Just don't listen to the poltergeist. He'll send you right out a window."

Some of the boys looked nervous again, probably wondering what a poltergeist was, and whether they should be scared of one or not.

They came to the fourth floor, and Merlin led them all to the west wing, passing along a corridor lined with paintings. The Muggle-Born children gasped and looked astonished when they saw them.

"The pictures are moving!" one squeaked, watching as a dragon swooped around an old tower while archers below tried to subdue it.

One other boy rolled his eyes. "Well, of course they are. What did you expect?"

The Muggle-Born's eyes went even wider if that was possible. "Wizard pictures  _move?_ " one whispered. "Staircases change … little elves do the chores … am I dreaming?"

Merlin chuckled, and felt a secret thrill. How could the Wizards' Council say this was wrong? All you had to do was look at the expression of delight on these Muggle-Born children's faces to see that it was right. They had finally discovered that they were not alone and were able to embrace the wonders of the world they were born to inhabit.

Finally, he led them to a small nondescript door and he opened it, leading them all inside. It was a spacious common area, with plenty of comfortable chairs and tables, a large roaring fire and a cosy atmosphere. From this, three doors led off.

"Your quarters are through there," he said, pointing. "You'll live here until the Sorting. Any questions?"

The poorer children were looking around in barely concealed glee. The common area alone was probably bigger than most of their homes, and certainly far more comfortable. However, not everyone was satisfied.

"We all share?" one asked, looking incredulous.

"Yes," said Merlin. "There are three rooms, large rooms, I might add. Twenty to a room. One you're Sorted into your houses it will be about half a dozen to a room."

The boy did not look satisfied. "But all of us?" he objected. " _All_  of us? Regardless of … background?"

"Yes," said Merlin firmly. "Everyone is equal at Hogwarts. If you don't like it, I suggest you take a few blankets and set up camp in a classroom. Better yet, the Forbidden Forest. I'm sure the werewolves won't mind."

The boy went pale, and shook his head quickly. Merlin smiled; there of course weren't any werewolves in the Forest, but a few harmless rumours wouldn't go amiss.

"I suggest you all get to sleep," he said, moving over to the door again. "You'll need to be prepared for tomorrow."

He left the room and moved back to the staircases, determined to get to his room on the seventh floor. He was exhausted. However, as he was heading along the corridor, he stopped when he saw a figure in his path.

"Rowena," he said, smiling despite his tiredness. "Why aren't you in your Tower?"

She smiled. "I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" Merlin asked, taking a few steps closer to her, his smile widening. "And what for?"

"For helping to make all of this possible," she said. "I thank you."

"That is unusual," he said, stopping just inches from her. "You do not like to share credit."

"I am not," she said, smirking. "A House shall bear my name. None shall bear yours."

"True," he said, "but I would not have it any other way. This is your school. You were the ones who founded it. I did very little in comparison."

 _Just as as have done for the last three centuries,_ he silently added _. If only I had had the vision to do something like this._

She shook her head. "Nevertheless, I thank you, Emrys."

He placed a hand under her chin and made her look at him. "And I thank you, Rowena," he said sincerely. "You've made me feel alive in a way I haven't in a very long time."

He tilted his head and smiled. "You're happy?"

"I never thought I could ever be this happy," she said, her eyes slightly watery. "I told myself that I was doing this solely for the renown and the intellectual achievements that I would be remembered for. But I failed to anticipate how happy it would make me to see those children there, ready to learn, given an opportunity that so many others have been denied."

"You're beginning to sound like Helga," Merlin said, and she laughed.

"Perhaps I am," she said. "But I am not ashamed of it. She is a good woman. And I no longer see embracing my own happiness as the weakness I once did. If anything, It will make me stronger."

She took a step closer, reached up and traced his face lightly with her fingers. "You struggle with that, don't you?" she said. "You don't want yourself to be happy because you feel you do not deserve it."

"I do feel that I have something to atone for," he said, covering her hand in his. "But when I'm here in this castle, when I'm with you, I forget that I should be being punished. I am afraid to embrace anything that will make me happy. I know it cannot last."

She smiled. "Nothing will last. Not even this school. But joy can be found in these things regardless."

She reached up then and kissed him, winding her arms around his neck. He pulled her closer, feeling the usual exhilaration of being this close to her, of being able to forget his crushing destiny. He deepened the kiss, and let himself forget everything, everything except her.

After what could have been either hours or mere minutes, they moved apart, both a little breathless. She giggled, most uncharacteristically. She ran her hand along his arm.

"Helena is asleep," she said, looking up at him. "We can be together."

And she took his hands, and led him back to her quarters. And this time, not even the rational side of his mind offered an objection.

He followed her.


	26. The First Day

The first day of the first term of the first year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry dawned bright and early, and the Great Hall was soon filled with a gaggle of excited students at breakfast, eager to begin their first lessons. Merlin couldn't help but smile when he looked at them. He wondered how long the novelty of being at school would last; before long they'd be grumbling about their teachers and complaining about their homework.

But for the moment, everything was cheerful, and Merlin was content simply to sit and watch everyone else. Teachers were poring over last minute notes and preparations, students were examining their timetables with a mixture of curiosity and confusion and the Founders were already eying up the students as though trying to Sort them just by sight.

"I want that one!" Godric announced suddenly, pointing at a boy on a table at the far left. "He's got the look of a warrior, wouldn't you say?"

"He's barely twelve years old," said Helga, rolling her eyes.

"And? I knew how to hold my own in a fight when I was twelve, why shouldn't he?"

"Godric, we haven't even had our first lessons yet, would you please refrain from picking out the soldiers for your own personal army?" said Salazar. "Leave the boy alone. There will be plenty of time later to decide what House he's in. Give him a chance."

"Thank you, Salazar," said Helga warmly.

"Besides, I think he looks more like a Slytherin."

"Salazar!"

"For heaven's sake, they're not toys to be fought over," said Rowena irritably. "We have two months to decide. Stop trying to collect them."

"Well said," murmured Merlin, and winked at her. She blushed slightly and looked away, but no one else seemed to notice.

"Well, we shall soon see won't we?" Godric beamed, looking around eagerly. "First Dueling classes straight after breakfast. Can't wait to get started!"

"You  _will_  start off gently, won't you?" Helga asked worriedly. "Keep to the agreed lesson plan?"

"Of course I will!" said Godric, but something about his tone suggested to Merlin that Godric's first lot of students were in for a shock. Salazar seemed to think so too.

"I'm not so certain," he said, his eyes narrowed at Godric. "We don't want any … ah,  _injuries,_  do we? We don't want to give the Wizards' Council any reason to shut us down, do we? I'm not sure you should be left unsupervised."

"What?" spluttered Godric indignantly. "I am not a child!"

"But you act like one-"

"I am perfectly capable of running my own class!" huffed Godric. "I'm not as foolish as you seem to think!"

"Hmmm … tickled any dragons lately?"

"That has nothing to do with it!"

"Emrys, what are you doing this morning?" Helga interjected suddenly.

"Me? Nothing," Merlin shrugged. "I might wander down to the village or something."

"Why don't you go with Godric?" Helga said. "You could … assist him in his first lessons."

"I do not need to be babysat, Helga," said Godric, but the others looked intrigued. He scowled, but seemed to falter under Helga's look. "What exactly do you mean by … assist?"

"Assisting you in demonstrating spells, practicing with the students, keeping an eye on things …" said Helga. "Please, Godric. Just until you get settled in."

Godric sighed, but softened a little under Helga's gaze. "All right, but only for today, if it will put your mind at rest," he said gently. "I'll prove to you I'm not as irresponsible as you think. Besides, it could be fun."

Helga nodded gratefully, but Merlin still saw a trace of doubt in both the faces of Salazar and Rowena, both of whom seemed to be regretting the decision they had made months ago to allow Godric to teach Dueling now that the moment was finally at hand.

"I'll make sure he doesn't kill one of them," Merlin reassured Helga.

Breakfast passed in much the same manner, and Godric and Merlin both soon left and headed towards the Dueling Chamber. Before he left the table however, he paused by Rowena and whispered to her.

"Good luck," he said, and he detected the smallest of nervous smiles on her face before he followed Godric out of the hall.

"You really don't need to come," Godric said to him as they climbed the many staircases. "I know what I'm doing."

"I don't have anything to do anyway," said Merlin. "You lot won't be resuming your Old Magic lessons for a while. Might as well do something useful."

"I can't wait to learn some more," said Godric, rubbing his hands together. "I've missed our lessons. We never have much time anymore!"

"We'll sort something out," assured Merlin.

Before long they were standing in the cavernous Dueling Chamber. It was silent as the calm before a storm. Godric was practically skipping with excitement.

Before long a great bell sounded somewhere from within the depths of the castle, signaling to the students the beginning of the school day. Godric's grin widened.

However, five minutes later, and not a student had appeared. Godric's face fell a little.

"Where are they?"

"Give them a few minutes," said Merlin. "The castle is enormous. They need to find their way around."

Godric nodded, but kept staring at the door like some wild-eyed puppy awaiting the return of its master. Before long, his waiting paid off. The door slowly opened, and in crept about a dozen children in their black robes, looking around nervously and awed at the room, varying in age from about twelve to sixteen. Merlin immediately fell back and stood in a corner of the room to observe silently. He'd watch, and wait.

Godric face beamed as he beheld the children before him. They looked slightly intimidated.

"Welcome to your first Dueling lesson!" Godric announced. "Now, let's get started!"

"Shouldn't we take a register first?" Merlin interrupted, his attempt to remain silent already foiled. Some of the students jumped and turned to look at him curiously.

"Ah, yes," said Godric. "I forgot about that."

Merlin barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Godric may be the best dueler of his generation, but there was no denying that teaching was something that may come slowly to him, if at all.

"Right," said Godric, looking over a scroll of names. "Let's see … Pelagius Abbot?"

"That's me," said one boy about fourteen. He looked slightly nervous, but determined. He was the son of one of the Governors, and from what Merlin knew, already fairly skilled with magic.

"Ah, yes, I know your father, boy!" said Godric, grinning broadly. "Good man, good man."

Pelagius nodded, apparently not knowing what to say.

"Now, who else … Servillius Nott?"

Godric went through each of the names, grinning at each individual pupil. He must have thought it was a welcoming friendly smile, but it looked more like he was sizing them up. A couple of the children Merlin recognised as coming from the village; they were Muggle-Born, but had been taken in by wizarding families and given some basic training in magic. This training was the only reason they were in a fourth year class rather than in first year with most other Muggle-Borns. Every other child was Pure-Blood and had been taught a little by either their parents or professional tutors. The wealthier children were immediately evident; they were the only ones with surnames.

"Now, that's over with," said Godric, casting aside the register of names rather carelessly. "Now for the fun! Dueling is one of the most important things you will learn here at this castle. We all know how dangerous a world it is out there and you  _must_  be prepared. This will be hard work, and often dangerous, but I have confidence in all of you."

The two Muggle-Borns gulped and exchanged an alarmed glance, but Godric didn't seem to notice. Again, Merlin found it hard not to roll his eyes. Perhaps Helga had been right; he  _did_  need supervising.

"To begin!" Godric announced, withdrawing his wand from his pocket. "How many jinxes and curses do you know?"

Before the children could look any more alarmed than they already did, Merlin decided he had to step forwards.

"Perhaps teaching them to defend themselves first would be the best idea," Merlin said, looking pointedly at Godric. "That way you can teach them as many jinxes and curses as you like without danger."

"Oh, yes, I believe you're right, Emrys," Godric said, faltering a little. "Forgetting my own lesson plan …" He stood for a moment and shook himself. "Very well, Shield Charms then! And I warn you, unless you can perfect this spell quickly you will find the work in this class very tough going. I believe in learning by experience!"

This did not seem to reassure them.

"Alright, how many of you already know Shield Charms?"

A couple of hands went hesitatingly up. Godric looked almost disappointed.

"Is that all? Well, that won't do! Now, a Shield Charm is one of the most important spells you could ever use in a duel. It may very well save your life one day. Now, I shall demonstrate. Master Emrys, will you oblige?"

Not happy about being dragged in to this, Merlin slowly moved forwards. The children who knew him from the village smiled at him.

"Now, Emrys here shall try to attack me," said Godric, raising his wand into a dueling position. "I shall raise a Shield and, well, you shall see what will happen."

Godric nodded to Merlin, who then reached into his pocket and withdrew the wand that he hated and lifted it.

" _Reducto!"_  he cried, and a jet of light went soaring towards Godric.

" _Protego!"_ Godric shouted, and a silvery shield appeared around him. The spell went slamming into it, it shimmered, and dropped.

"There, you see," said Godric turning back to the children. "This is the simplest Shield Charm you could do. The Shield absorbs the energy from the spell and protects you from its effects. There are drawbacks however. This lasts only temporarily, and will only absorb  _one_  spell. You would have to cast another one to protect yourself against another attack. Of course, whilst this may protect you from a rogue spell, it would be no use during an all out battle. You can't keep casting Shield Charms when you have other things to worry about! So, what to do, is increase the power you put into the spell. Like this."

He nodded to Merlin again.

" _Reducto!"_

" _Protego!"_

This time, the Shield did not drop automatically on impact and stayed shimmering around Godric until he stopped the spell.

"Keeping a Shield sustained like this is a lot more effective against repelling multiple blows, but it will also be more difficult to maintain and may distract your focus. Another way you could do it is like this."

" _Reducto!"_

" _Protego!"_

This time, the shield grew brighter than ever and instead of evaporating, the spell bounced off the shield and came hurtling back to Merlin, who quickly blocked it with a Shield Charm of his own.

"This spell has the advantage of not only protecting yourself, but actually serving to attack the enemy as well. They may not be expecting that! But again, this way of performing the spell is much more difficult since it requires a great deal more power and concentration."

Godric grinned at the impressed looks on the faces before him. "Now, who wants to try?"

Immediately, everyone seemed to take a step backwards.

"Pelagius!" roared Godric, "you said you knew the spell! Come and help me demonstrate, won't you?"

Pelagius paled, but stepped forwards, shooting a terrified glance at Merlin, who sincerely sympathised with the boy.

"Now, raise your wand arm like this. No, not like that, goodness gracious, whoever taught you to duel like that, boy? That's it, a little higher, perfect! Now, I shall attack you, you repel me."

Merlin winced at Godric's phrasing. He hoped he'd restrain himself. But, it appeared Godric was not entirely without reason.

" _Scintilla_!" he cried, and a jet of red-hot emerald sparks went shooting towards Pelagius, who hastily muttered the incantation. The shield sprung to life before him and shimmered in mid-air. It was almost entirely successful, yet Pelagius still yelped in pain as some of the sparks burst through his shield.

"Good start!" Godric nodded approvingly. "Be more forceful when speaking the incantation though, no need to whisper! Try again."

He did so, and this time no sparks got through the shield, yet Pelagius was thrown backwards with the force of the spell into a heap in the floor. The entire class was watching with bated breath.

"Better," said Godric. "But you're still not packing enough of a punch. Really pour yourself into the spell. Try again, and this time, try and send some of those sparks back at me!"

Pelagius, burnt and bruised, screwed his face up in determination, and stood his ground fiercely. This time, he stayed standing and uninjured and managed to send about half of the sparks back to Godric, who sent his booming laugh echoing around the chamber.

"Excellent! I shall have to watch out for you, boy!"

Pelagius went back to his place in the class, receiving no small amount of admiring gazes from his fellow classmates.

"Now, organise yourselves into pairs and I want you to practice this until you can all manage it as well as Pelagius here. Be careful now! Don't use any spell other than  _scintilla;_  don't want any serious injuries now do we?" He nodded to Merlin here smugly as though expecting to be praised for not trying to kill his students.

The class wasn't too bad, all things considered. The wealthier Pure-Bloods like Pelagius and Servillius Nott were much better at it, having had more experience with professional teaching in magic than the Muggle-Borns and poorer Pure-Bloods, and Merlin was glad to see that both of them spent more time helping the others cast the spells than working on it themselves. It was nice to see that not all Pure-Bloods were as prejudiced as the Wizards' Council.

Before long the lesson was over, miraculously ending without any serious casualties or lasting injuries and the next lot trooped in. This was a second year class, but there seemed to be just as great a variation of age here, ranging from eleven to fifteen. It was certainly going to take a few years before the ages began to settle down.

This lesson Godric began to teach the Disarming Charm, once again using Merlin as his test subject. It seemed to delight him to be able to make Merlin's wand spiraling away from him time and time again; after all, this was the only time where Merlin was unable to fight back to his full power. He then began to experiment with the unique features of the room and had the children split up into two teams and try to disarm the opposite side, all the while navigating Godric's strange obstacle course that leapt from the floorboards under their feet, along with life-size dummies that tried to attack them as well. Every child was soon bruised and humiliated. Still, Merlin had to admit, Godric's teaching methods meant they learned fast.

The day continued in this manner most of the morning, and by the time lunch came Merlin was more than willing to leave. For his fifth year class, Godric had enjoyed teaching the children how to Stun, once again, Merlin being the 'willing' volunteer. He was bruised all over. He was certain Godric had only done it so often since Merlin was equally as ruthless in their own lessons.

"So, how many did he maim?" Salazar asked casually at the lunch table.

"None, surprisingly, though I think he would have liked to," said Merlin darkly. "No, he was more or less responsible, for the most part."

"It may help them learn faster," said Rowena. "I learn best through books, but others may need more hands on experience."

Merlin raised his eyebrows at her. Admitting that books weren't the only source of learning? Rowena pointedly ignored him.

"You think threatening a child with danger if they don't learn quickly enough is reasonable?" Helga asked.

"No, simply that Godric may achieve more success than we give him credit for. We each have our methods. We must teach in our own way. Godric may not be the most responsible man alive, but he is an excellent dueler, and for that we must give him credit."

"But probably not an excellent teacher," said Salazar.

"Oi!" said Godric, setting his food aside and glaring at them all. "Do you mind not talking about me when I'm sitting right here?"

"No, I don't mind," said Helga abruptly. "A child in my Herbology class had  _burns_  Godric! After your lesson!"

"They were only small!"

"You should have healed them!" said Helga. She turned to Merlin. "Why didn't you?"

"I was healing a broken arm at the time."

Helga rolled her eyes. "We must be careful, Godric. We can't go getting a reputation. If a student gets injured, which I acknowledge must occasionally happen in a Dueling lesson, make sure they are healed  _immediately._ Is that understood?"

"Yes, Helga," sighed Godric wearily, not even attempting to argue. Helga nodded, and a few specks of dirt fell from her dress, which she brushed away impatiently. Her Herbology lesson had been a great success, and Merlin could see that most of the children in the hall that were still chattering excitedly were the ones also covered in dirt. The others were a mixture of emotions, all discussing their morning classes with their friends, pointing to various teachers and swapping stories, spreading a mix of excitement and dread. Especially when it came to Godric, and also the strict Arithmancy teacher.

"I think I'll go down to the village this afternoon," announced Godric. "All of my classes are over for today after all."

"Don't be so lazy, Godric!" reprimanded Helga. "You've only done half a day's work!"

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Why not ask Emrys for a lesson?"

" _Helga …"_

"When else are we to get lessons? We're busy the rest of the week!"

"What about we make a proper schedule?" said Merlin. "Friday evening can be the group session, Saturday mornings, Helga, Saturday evenings Godric, Sunday mornings Salazar, Sunday evenings, Rowena. That way you will still have time to organise lessons and have some time off."

"I can live with that," said Godric, seizing on this chance eagerly.

"Very well," said Helga, "but I expect you to work  _extra_ hard at Old Magic."

"Of course, of course," said Godric, waving his hand. "Now, I'd better get going. I promised I'd meet old Thelonius down at the inn."

And without another word, he was off, greeting his students enthusiastically as he passed.

Helga sighed. "He's passionate about this school and what we are trying to achieve, but I fear Godric will never be much of an academic."

"What then shall you do?" Salazar asked Merlin. "If you're only going to be teaching us at weekends what shall you do the rest of the time? You can't keep shadowing Godric."

"I'll find something to do …" Merlin said, though he wasn't quite sure what.

"Why don't you teach?" Rowena asked suddenly.

"Teach? Teach what?"

Rowena gave him one of her rare public smiles and nodded to Helena, who was sitting at the end of the table.

"From what Scáthach tells me, Helena has been feeling lonely as of late. And from experience, I know what staves off loneliness the most is a good book."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "You want me to teach her to read?"

"Of course, I would love to do it myself," said Rowena almost regretfully. "But … well, she has taken to you."

Merlin was speechless for a moment, before grinning. "I'd be happy to."

Rowena nodded, and smiled again. Helga looked happy. "Good, I wouldn't want either of you to feel neglected," she said.

The rest of lunch passed uneventfully, and at the end of it, when students were beginning to dissipate, Merlin stood up and walked to the end of the table and bent down beside Helena.

"So, what are you doing this afternoon?" Merlin asked her.

Helena made a face. "Scáthach wants me to practice embroidery. I hate it. I keep pricking myself and getting blood over the cloth."

"Why don't you come with me and learn something new?"

"Like what?"

"How to read."

Helena's eyes grew wide with excitement and she gasped. "Really? You'll teach me?"

"Only if you want to …"

"Yes!" Helena cried. "I want to learn how to read!"

"Well come on then," Merlin grinned, and held out his hand for her to take. Behind her, Scáthach was glaring at him.

"Don't worry, she'll be safe with me, I'm not about to feed her to the Giant Squid," said Merlin to her, but as usual, Scáthach gave no sign that she had understood him.

Helena seemed oblivious however, and was soon skipping happily by his side through the corridors.

"Where are we going?"

"What about the library?"

"Oh yes!" Helena said enthusiastically. "I want to start reading books right away!"

Merlin laughed. "It won't be that easy."

They reached the library and nodded to the new librarian the Founders had hired and fond a table at the very back of the library. Helena hopped up on a seat eagerly as Merlin conjured some parchment and quills.

He dipped the quill into the ink and pulled the parchment closer to him. "This, is the letter A. Can you think of a word that begins with that sound?"

Helena bit her lip and thought for a moment. "A … a … apple?"

"Good! Now, you try and copy it."

The afternoon passed by rather lazily, but enjoyably. Helena was an eager and willing pupil, and was soon covering parchment after parchment with multiple letters, drawing little pictures of apples to remind herself. Then she took delight in pulling books from the shelves (much to the chagrin of the librarian) and pointing out every letter A she could find. Her fingers and nose were soon splattered with ink, though her enthusiasm was not dimmed.

When the great bell sounded the time for dinner, Helena looked disappointed and Merlin couldn't help but laugh. Together they made their way out into the already teeming corridors, Merlin seizing hold of her hand to stop her getting crushed in the multitude of students, all of whom seemed to be lost. Children milled around trying to find their way.

Ahead, Merlin caught sight of the boy from the previous night who had shown such disdain for his living quarters. He was leading a group of students confidently down the corridor. He was smirking widely.

"Of course, none of that was particularly difficult," he drawled. "I've been learning Latin since I was a child! Second nature to me now. Imagine, some people have never even _heard_ it spoken before! Don't know why I've been put into a first year class, my Latin is near flawless! And why does  _everyone_  need to learn it? I mean, what use will it be to them? Will they be reading Virgil and Pliny to their pigs?"

There were some appreciative chuckles at this. Merlin immediately tensed.

"And some of these people can barely read! Can you imagine? I would have been humiliated to be this age and being unable to read! And have you heard some of them trying to speak English? Their accents are so thick they could be speaking in tongues for all I know! My father was right about all of this. He's got friends high up in the Wizards' Council, you know. He told me just how much of a shambles this school really is-"

"Don't insult this school!" a voice sounded loudly from behind the boy. "The Founders are better than you could ever be!"

Merlin stopped in amazement as he recognised the shock of red hair. It was Tomin, the boy so shy Merlin had barely heard him say more than a few sentences before, now standing up to this boy with a fierce scowl on his face.

The boy sneered at him. "You're not one of these people who think the Founders are saints are you? They're barely hanging on by the skin of their teeth! They won't last long if you ask me."

"No one is," said Tomin, standing his ground, though the other boy was several inches taller. "You're lucky to be here. We all are, Augustus."

"Maybe people like  _you_  are."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Is there a problem here?" Merlin asked, deciding to intervene before things got worse. He looked between Tomin and the boy, Augustus.

"No …  _sir,"_  said Augustus, barely stopping himself from glaring at him. "We were just going down to dinner,  _sir."_

"Good," said Merlin, the sarcasm not being lost on him. "Well, I suggest you turn around and head the other way then. You're leading these people towards the latrines."

Tomin and a few of the other children laughed, and Augustus flushed pink and hurried off. But Merlin was not amused. That boy had been only about eleven years old and already he was spouting off the bigoted propaganda of his family. He only hoped the school could change that thinking before it became too late.

He considered this the entire way down to dinner. Once they reached the Great Hall and the chatter of all the students once again comparing their lessons and teachers reached his ears. Helena ran excitedly up to her mother and began proudly showing her the parchment covered with her shaky As. Rowena looked up at him here and smiled, and for a moment, Merlin felt a little better.

He sat down to dinner with the other teachers and other Founders (minus Godric who was still down in the village) and tried to clear his thoughts, but every so often the boy would catch his eye and once more he would think those same thoughts. This was what the school was for, he reminded himself. It would not miraculously change everything overnight. He had to be patient.

Then, pulling himself out of his daydreams, there was a great sound of laughter coming from all the students, Merlin looked up and almost laughed himself. Godric had returned from the village, and had acquired something new.

"Godric," said Helga, not looking amused. "What on earth is that thing on your head?"

"It's a hat!" Godric said, rather majestically. "I won it in a card game in the tavern!"

"Won?" Salazar asked, barely restraining his own hilarity. "Are you sure you won? It looks more the sort of thing the loser would receive in mockery!"

Godric scowled and whipped the hat from his head. "What's wrong with it?" he demanded. He held it up and Merlin examined it. It was long, pointed at the end and made out of poor-quality cloth. Overall it looked rather scruffy.

"I like it, Uncle Godric," said Helena smiling.

"Thank you, Helena," he nodded. "At least someone is on my side."

"Godric, it's disgusting," said Helga.

"It's noble!"

"It's mangy."

"The hat makes me look distinguished!"

"The hat makes you look ridiculous."

"Well, I like it!" said Godric. "And I don't care what anyone else thinks."

"Godric, if the Wizards' Council sees you wearing that-"

"Why should I care what they think?" Godric sniffed. "I didn't think we were after their good opinion."

"Let him wear it," said Salazar, still laughing. "If he wants to look a fool, let him. All the more amusement for us!"

Merlin found himself laughing too, unable to avoid it. Godric looked at him with a betrayed expression, made all the more ridiculous by the strange hat. Rowena simply sighed, and went back to the book she was reading propped up against the wine jug.

The argument about the hat continued all dinner, but Merlin didn't care. Even thoughts of the Augustus boy could no longer depress him. Today was the very first day of Hogwarts, the very first day of an institution that would change the lives of hundreds, if not thousands in the years to come. He was here, with his friends, at the pinnacle of a new era of his life.

Nothing could depress him at the current moment.


	27. An Angry Hippogriff

Before Merlin quite knew what had happened, the end of the first two weeks of Hogwarts was upon him. The entire two weeks seemed to have sped past him while he just tried frantically to keep up with them. It was a nice feeling, he thought. Too often in his long life he had felt like the world was moving at a snail's pace, keeping him trapped in monotony. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to be this busy and be around so many people.

He found himself settling into his new routine quite easily. Every morning he would breakfast with the Founders and the teachers, assist in various areas of the school in various classes, and then tutor Helena in the afternoons. Evenings, if she was in a good mood, were often spent with Rowena in Ravenclaw Tower teaching her Ancient Runes. Sometimes he didn't make it back to his own chambers after the lesson.

He found he was getting to know the other teachers pretty well since he often sneaked into their classes invisible to observe them. Alfred Blackwood, the Transfiguration teacher, still seemed to worship Godric, claiming him to be the best student he had ever taught, never ceasing to make Salazar's eyebrows rise in disbelief. In class however, he was more stern, though still kind. In the classes Merlin had watched he was patient and encouraging with his students, though brooking no tardiness. First years started off Transfiguring things like pins into spoons and other small things, whereas the higher years were learning human transfiguration and other complex spells. This was a subject that required a lot of reading and theory work, and Merlin noticed some of the poorer children struggling, after all, some of them had only began to learn to read and write a few months ago. But all of them were incredibly grateful to be here, and their determination bore them through.

The Muggle Studies teacher, Olwyn Briar, was no less enthusiastic in her lessons than she had been when she first arrived. She still spoke at top speed and blabbered constantly, her eyes alight with enthusiasm; Merlin wondered how she could keep it up at all times like she did. Naturally, the Muggle-Born students were better in this class, though they were still learning about how to help their families and other Muggles interact with wizards, and learning about how other Muggles interact with them. A few Pure-Blooded students were more than a little sceptical of what was going on in these lessons. And he sometimes observed a quiet anger and disdain for what she was saying; they weren't used to being told that Muggles were not mindless animals. No one had spoken out against her, but Merlin was sure that it was only a matter of time.

Arithmancy seemed to be a subject that would end up incredibly unpopular. It looked very difficult, and more than one student would be left dumfounded. Not to mention the teacher. Hermia Hunter was strict, in the very definition of the word. She had the sort of expression that would make anyone wary of crossing her. She tolerated no nonsense, and her classes had a particularly military feel to it. She was formidable, and even Merlin would be hesitant to anger her.

By contrast, Helga was an incredibly open and warm teacher, giving each of her students equally bright smiles, as though she treasured each and every one equally. Her classes were the ones in which the students felt most comfortable, particularly the Muggle-Borns or poorer children since many of them were already aware of healing properties of plants. Yet, she was by no means a push over. She was stern when needed, but it never was, since all of the students respected her so much.

Rowena was however, nowhere near as accommodating. She expected only the best from her Charms and Astronomy students. He watched these lessons in amusement. It seemed Rowena was not prepared for teaching; she seemed frustrated every time she realised not everyone was as smart as she was. She also got pretty miffed every time a child fell asleep during one of her midnight Astronomy lessons. Students were constantly on edge.

Agrippina Pompey, the Latin teacher, whom Merlin had thought so similar to Rowena, also took the same approach in class. Merlin almost felt sorry for these students, to have such a rigid teacher in such a difficult subject. No matter the age group, most years seemed to be starting from scratch in Latin, since not even all the children from noble families had learned it. Agrippina was very annoyed at this. She looked mousy and frail, with her messy robes and the three books she always carried around with her, but she was certainly not about to be taken lightly.

Divination was something that severely tried Merlin's patience. Ceran, the Druid, seemed to know little of prophecy, and was no Seer. He believed in auspices, and augers, and believed one could tell the future from bird entrails, prompting much revulsion in his classes. All the time, he talked about continuing the traditions of the Druids and how they were so much better than modern day wizards. Merlin had to refrain from snorting and giving away his concealed presence. There was nothing that Ceran did in his lessons that even vaguely resembled what the Druids had done. They had used crystals, and dreams to determine the future, not cutting up animals.

Godric's lessons went on mainly as the first ones Merlin had observed did. The students were terrified of him, and of what his lessons entailed. Godric was scarily enthusiastic, and each lesson, which involved various exercises in the Dueling Chamber seemed to be risking the children's lives every time. He was the only teacher that did not assign book chapters to be read, or essays to hand in. He believed in learning from experience, and he had often sent a pupil to the Hospital Wing. Helga had complained to him, but he seemed unstoppable, and in any case, it provided her Healing students the chance to practice on real life subjects. Still, it wasn't entirely without purpose. The students were more determined to learn, and learn quickly. Though it wasn't from desire for knowledge, Merlin observed, rather, an instinct to stay alive.

Similarly, Care of Magic Creatures lessons were riddled with danger. Kerr was a rather fierce looking man from the west, and had grown up in an area where the people were constantly fighting against the Hebridean Black dragons, and it seemed to have instilled a hardened nature to his personality that refused to see danger, almost like Godric. A Fire Crab, which to anyone else would have been frightening was almost like a pet to him. Students were often running away from his lessons, which were held outside by the entrance to the Forbidden Forest.

Salazar's lessons were far more relaxed. They were held in the deepest dungeons, and there was no danger, besides the occasional risk of blowing up one's cauldron. Salazar was not a patient teacher, was often irritated by his own students and condescending, but he was a good teacher nonetheless. He had an artless way of capturing the class's attention with little effort. He wasn't particularly nice to his students, but neither was he cruel.

History of Magic was the one lesson Merlin had been avoiding, but, he eventually decided to attend on the last Friday of the third week. The teacher was a man named Bede, and he was studious, and often eccentric, but extremely knowledgeable. Nevertheless, students were often completely bored, save perhaps the Muggle-Born students who were eager to learn much about the world they had only just joined. He spoke mostly about the ancient wizards from abroad, and Merlin was unimpressed. It had been those wizards who had began using wands, and it had been their descendants who had brought it to Britain. Merlin had little respect for them. Then, halfway through one lesson, the subject he had been dreading came up.

"The great sorcerer Merlin put an end to the violence between sorcerers and Muggles sometime in the seventh century," he said, the whole class immediately perking up. "He had a close alliance with the Muggle King Arthur and together the two of them forged a new society in the city of Camelot, which offered peace and prosperity for all."

"But, sir?" a young girl asked, raising her hand hesitatingly. "If Merlin did all that, why are we still not friends with Muggles? If Merlin could do it, why couldn't we?"

 _Good question_ , Merlin thought.  _Why had I allowed it all to fade away?_

"It lasted throughout the lifetime of Arthur," said Bede. "But then an alliance between Morgana, his sorceress half-sister and Morded, a Druid, caused it to fall. They had suffered during early years of tyranny, and wanted revenge. Mordred killed King Arthur, and magic was once again feared, though Arthur's Queen tried to keep his vision alive after his death. Ultimately however, she was unsuccessful."

"You mean the reason Muggles hate us is because two wizards killed a Muggle?" someone asked. "They're still angry?"

"There was much tension before that," answered Bede. "Arthur's father had killed a great many sorcerers in a Purge, and sorcerers harboured an intense hatred for Camelot. Ordinary people were taught to fear magic."

"But surely, if Camelot changed and became peaceful-"

"That does not matter to them," said Bede, quite sadly. "Hatred and vengeance are often enough to turn even rational and kind people to the worst sorts of violence. Those two sorcerers could not let go of the past, and by their own actions destroyed any hope their kind had for the future."

Merlin felt a great pang of sadness himself as he heard Bede speak these words. How true they were. He had a great understanding of what had happened, and what had been lost, even though he had not been there.

"So whose fault is it then? The sorcerers for killing Arthur, or the Muggle king who killed the sorcerers?"

"Both," said Bede. "It was an endless cycle of revenge. Merlin changed that, along with Arthur, by agreeing to lay the past to rest and begin afresh, with benefits for both races. Morgana destroyed the alliance they had made out of her own selfish desire for revenge. It was never the same after all that."

 _No, it wasn't,_  Merlin agreed silently.

"But sir?" a young girl was asking. "What happened to Morgana and Mordred?"

"Arthur killed Mordred as he himself lay dying from Mordred's wound, and Morgana … well, her fate is more difficult to trace. Some say she was killed by Merlin, and others that she was trapped by him in a Crystal Cave to suffer eternal torment."

 _Yes,_  thought Merlin _, and she deserves it all._

"But what about Merlin?" asked the same young girl. "Why did everything go wrong after Arthur died? Didn't he do anything?"

_Not enough._

"Merlin's fate is also mysterious," said Bede. "Some say he died, others that he went to Avalon, the land of the dead to be with a lost love. Some say that it was he who was trapped in the Crystal Cave instead of Morgana, and that he waits there for wizardkind, ready to come forth again when needed, rather like the Muggles believe of Arthur. We shall never know."

Merlin felt oddly emotional at this. He wasn't trapped in the cave, that was Morgana's fate. But in a sense, he was just as trapped as she was, doomed to watch the rest of the world pass by. He would come forth when needed, one day. But that day looked ever further and further away.

The lesson passed without further incident and soon the students were dismissed for lunch. Merlin found himself following, his heart heavy. That lesson had affected him more than he had thought.

True, he had heard others talking about him before, but never like that. He'd never heard someone relate his story to a class of eager children like it was a story around a campfire. It made it all seem so distant somehow; he was consigned to history and myth, the modern world didn't even recognise him anymore.

To hear him talk so casually about Mordred and Morgana … it was heart-wrenching. He was trying to teach these students something that Merlin still dreamed about, and had still not recovered from more than three centuries later.

He was melancholic most of the rest of the day. A mood not unnoticed.

"What's wrong, Emrys?" Helena asked him, frowning. "Am I doing it wrong?"

Merlin jumped out of his reverie. He glanced down at Helena who was copying out her name in large shaky letters on a piece of parchment.

"No, Helena, it's fine, just don't leave such a gap between letters."

She nodded, but then she looked back at him, a question in her eyes.

"Why are you sad?"

"What makes you think I'm sad?"

"I can just tell."

"You're just as perceptive as your mother," he grumbled. She smiled, pleased, probably not understanding what perceptive meant.

"Sometimes she's sad," said Helena. "She just looks out of a window and doesn't talk to anyone. You look sad. Why?"

He sighed, and gave in. "I'm remembering something that happened a long time ago. One of my friends died."

"And it still makes you sad?"

"Yes," he said, trying not to let her see just how sad. "It does, every day."

"Why?" she asked. "My mama used to be sad about my papa, but she isn't any more. Won't you get happy again in a while?"

"It's not that simple," he said, "not for me. It … it was my fault."

"It can't have been," Helena said immediately, staring at him with wide innocent eyes. "You'd never hurt anybody. You're so nice to me."

"It wasn't deliberate," said Merlin, unable to resist his mind flashing back to that awful day. "I didn't do enough to save him."

"It was an accident?"

"Yes, you could say that. I made a mistake. A big one."

Helena was silent for a while. Then she smiled back at him. "Everybody makes mistakes, Aunt Helga said that to me when I dropped the wine on her dress. My mama wasn't angry with me when I dropped her book in the mud, because I said sorry, and I didn't mean it. Your friend wouldn't be angry with you. He'd still like you."

"Maybe he would," Merlin said, but he didn't believe it in the slightest.

She smiled and happily went back to her writing, dipping her sleeve accidently into the ink, thinking she had helped. He appreciated it, truly he did, but she was wrong. She was just four years old, she barely knew anything of the world. She couldn't understand that it wasn't just Arthur's death he was guilty of, but the destruction of an entire peaceful way of life. It was his fault that the world was in such chaos as it was. He may be trying to atone for that by helping with this school but nothing he ever did would be enough.

He was still thoroughly depressed when he was heading down to dinner with Helena later on. Then, an argument caught his ears. A few children were spilling out of the Muggle Studies class, Tomin was among them, and he was once again squaring up to the Pure-Blooded student Augustus, who had been so snobby on his first day.

Augustus looked really annoyed. "Muggle Studies is useless!" he was arguing. "I don't give a damn what Muggle lives are like!"

"You should!" Tomin was saying, looking rather pink in the face, speaking more loudly and forcefully than Merlin was used to from him. "Muggles will always hate us unless we stop being so arrogant and take the time to understand them."

"Understand them?" Augustus repeated. "They want to kill us all!"

"Not all of them!" said Tomin, looking particularly upset, and angry. "And the others only want to because they don't understand us!"

"Then why should we understand them?"

"Because someone has to take the first step!" Tomin was saying. "We can't just continue in the same way as we are now!"

"Why not? I wouldn't mind killing a few Muggles to keep the rest of us safe."

Immediately, Tomin had whipped out his wand and pointed it at Augustus, shaking in anger.

"Don't say that about Muggles."

Augustus just looked calmly at his wand, and smiled a little. "Not an Ollivander's wand, I see. You were one of those poor souls given a wand out of charity from that useless local wandmaker. Are you a Mudblood as well?"

"Master Augustus!" Merlin called, before Tomin could do anything he would regret out of anger. "Do not use such language within this castle."

Augustus looked at him in barely concealed disdain. "I see nothing wrong with my language,  _sir._ "

"I do," said Merlin angrily. He stopped before him, almost as angry as Tomin was. "Words such as that will not be permitted at Hogwarts."

"And what if I don't care?"

"You should," said Merlin, much angrier than he thought he'd be. "Because you could find yourself in a pretty dangerous situation otherwise."

Augustus paled a little. "Teachers aren't allowed to harm students," he said, looking a little wary.

Merlin smiled coldly. "I am not a teacher. I am not bound by their restrictions."

The boy looked even more afraid, and glanced to his friends and they hurried off down the corridor away from him. Tomin watched him, still shaking. Merlin nodded to him, and Tomin continued down the corridor as well, looking very upset.

Helena had stood watching the whole thing in confusion. "Emrys, I don't understand. What's a Mud-"

"Don't say it," Merlin said, a little more harshly than he had intended, for her face fell. He sighed, and softened his tone. "It's a very bad word, Helena. It is used to hurt the feelings of others, to make them feel not as worthy as other people. You are never to use it."

She nodded, "I won't."

"Emrys?"

Helga was standing behind him, her arms folded and looking rather stern-faced. Merlin immediately shrunk back.

"Did you just threaten that student?" she asked, her face in a frown.

"Perhaps just a little."

She shook her head. "Why, Emrys? From Godric, or Salazar, perhaps, but you? That isn't like you at all!"

"I know," said Merlin, feeling weary. His anger had evaporated, leaving him feeling very weary. "I was just … I was angry. I have had a trying morning."

"What was it about that situation that provoked you so?"

He avoided her gaze, and began to head down to the Entrance Hall, Helena in tow. Helga kept up with him, expecting an answer. He sighed heavily.

"It … it's attitudes like that … they make me so angry," he said. "I know that those views are common, and I've met plenty of people, especially on the Wizards' Council who think like that. But to have to hear it from the lips of a  _child …_  it's not his fault really, it's his parents who have influenced him thus. And it makes me sad to think just how …  _wrong_  our society is."

"I know," she said, linking her arm in his. "And that is what we're here for. To change that. Just don't threaten a student again." Suddenly, she smiled. "Though I admit, his face was a rather amusing."

He laughed, but inside, he still felt hollow. Once again he remembered Camelot. They had changed the lives of so many people back then, had changed the way people raised their children to think. And now, that life was so far away. Augustus was a child, yet he too espoused those despicable views that had brought down Camelot. Would they ever be able to change these things? Was a school enough?

Together they all trooped down to the Entrance Hall, where suddenly, all thoughts of this depressive nature was driven from his mind completely. Several children were running screaming into the Great Hall from outside. Merlin immediately whipped out his wand, alert and ready for danger, though something did not seem right; he should have been able to sense danger and anything evil would not have been able to pass through the school wards without alerting him.

Helga took her wand out too, and they moved quickly to the front doors. A student came running in breathless. Helga took the child in her arms and crouched down to her level. "Mara, what is going on?"

"It's Master Kerr and Lord Godric!" she said, her eyes frightened.

Helga's eyes narrowed. "What have they done now?"

The girl shook her head. "No, they're trying to help. It's Peeves, he let one of Master Kerr's hippogriffs loose and now it's on the rampage!"

Helga scowled at the mention of Peeves. She straightened up. "Mara, make sure everyone is in the Great Hall, and inform Headmaster Whitethorn, Lord Salazar and Lady Rowena what is happening. We shall try and help. Take Miss Helena with you."

Mara nodded and ran inside the castle dragging Helena by the hand, while Merlin and Helga made their way down the sloping lawns. The hippogriff was not hard to find; it was running around crazy on the ground before the Forbidden Forest, making awful sounds, charging at the people around it and dodging every spell that was sent its way. The ground around it was torn up and muddy, covered in the remains of what Merlin thought had once been the student's textbooks. Godric and Kerr were running around it, trying to do something. Kerr was running forwards constantly trying to bow to the creature before it clawed his back open, and Godric was running around it, throwing spells at it. A few older students had remained to help and were trying to throw ropes around its neck. It didn't like that at all.

"What on earth happened?" Helga asked Godric, who flinched at the angry tone of her voice.

"It was Peeves!" he insisted, holding his hands up. "We'd locked up the beast after the lesson and he came back and unlocked it again!"

"Now perhaps you'll agree with me that we need to get rid of him?" Helga said, scowling at him. "He could kill someone! He doesn't  _want_  us in the castle! He will continue to vex us!"

"Come on, Helga!" complained Godric. "Nothing wrong with a little excitement!" At that moment he ducked as a talon came swiping at his head.

Merlin was more than a little amused. Of course, it was not a funny situation, but in times like this, Godric reminded him so much of Arthur. All morning, thinking of Arthur had given him pain, yet, in situations such as this, Godric seemed to help him remember the good times more than the bad.

At that moment, Rowena and Salazar came running down towards them, Headmaster Withethorn coming up behind, breathless. They all had their wands drawn.

They tried for about ten minutes, but the hippogriff's skin seemed immune to most spells, and it was moving around so much it was impossible for all of them to hit it at once. Merlin of course could have stopped it with Old Magic, and would have done if Kerr, Whitethorn and the others students had not been here. It was incredibly frustrating to limit himself like this; how could Wand-Wielders survive with such weak magic? It was almost beyond belief.

Helga was watching Kerr. "Why do you do that?" she asked, after he unsuccessfully tried to bow once more.

"Hippogriffs are very proud creatures, Lady," he said. "In order to approach them, one must bow."

"You mean they respect politeness?"

"Yes, Lady."

"Then why on  _earth_  are we trying to Stun it?"

And without warning she shoved her wand into her pocket and leapt forwards, right towards the hippogriff,

"Helga, no!" Godric cried.

But Helga would not listen. She walked confidently up to the Hippogriff whilst the rest of them watching in frozen horror. She did not betray the slightest indication of fear, even when the great animal turned its fierce amber eye on her.

Helga fixed her eyes on the hippogriff, and slowly, ever so slowly, bowed, keeping her head low, and then slowly straightening. Unlike Kerr, she stood her ground instead of running back straight away. The Hippogriff reared, talons flashing, and Merlin almost pulled her back with Old Magic, witnesses or no. But the hippogriff just planted all four limbs on the earth, eyeing her carefully, its head held high. Slowly, it bent its scaly knees into an unmistakable bow.

Helga grinned as it straightened and rushed forwards, stoking the feathers around its huge beak. The Hippogriff closed its eyes contentedly, rubbing itself against her hands. The brutal monster of just a few moments ago was now the equivalent of a purring kitten.

The gathered observers looked completely thunderstruck. Salazar was the first to comment.

"Trust Helga," he said, "she can befriend anything, with two legs or four." He sounded admiring however, even a little envious.

Helga was still smiling, she conjured a rope out of thin air and gently tied it around the creature's neck and led it to the paddock it had been kept in. She came back to the rest of them and straightened her dress out.

"I believe  _that_  is how to handle a hippogriff."

"Helga!" Godric exclaimed, looking at her with joy and admiration. "You magnificent woman! Fearless as a lioness! You would fit very well in my House!"

"No need to insult me," Helga said, though she was smiling.

She looked around at the others. "Well, then. Aren't we late for dinner?"

* * *

 

The few students who had remained to help Kerr subdue the hippogriff had so quickly related the incident of what Helga had done, every student in the Great Hall had spent all of dinner staring up at the high table with looks of respect. Helga pretended not to notice, though he knew it pleased her. Already she had a reputation for being a 'soft' teacher and now everyone had reevaluated her. She looked sweet and innocent, but she was by no means weak.

"You're going to become the most famous of us all, dear Helga," said Salazar, that evening at their Old Magic lesson with Merlin. "Helga Hufflepuff, the woman who bested a Hippogriff with a bow when the great Godric Gryffindor was helpless."

"I was not helpless," said Godric, frowning. "I would have caught the creature. But I would not deny Helga her moment of glory."

Salazar snorted. "Typical Godric. Admit it, you would have been lost without her."

"As would you!" Godric scowled. "You had no bright ideas about how to catch it!"

"I do not pride myself on heroics or bravery as you do. What a humiliation, to be saved by a woman, particularly one as sweet and innocent looking as our Helga."

"That's enough," commanded Helga, before Godric could retaliate fiercely. Immediately, both of them were quiet.

"What about this spell?" Rowena asked, pointing at a page in the spellbook, having completely ignored the argument. "Could you teach this to us?"

Merlin looked at the spell she was indicating and whistled. "You don't aim for much do you?"

"What is it?" Godric asked, seizing the book. "Transporting? What is that?"

"It's the Old Magic form of Apparition," Merlin said. "Only it's far less restricting. You can travel over much greater distances and it is much safer. You can arrive somewhere in a matter of seconds, no matter how far."

At this, Salazar twitched. He must be thinking about his family, Merlin thought. He had set out to save his family the moment he had heard of trouble at home, but had arrived too late because Apparating was impractical. He of all people would be the most eager to learn it.

"It's difficult," Merlin said. "I didn't learn it for many years. You're nowhere near disciplined enough to use it."

"How hard can it be?" Godric asked. "We've mastered everything else you have taught us!"

"Everything else I have taught you had been child's play compared to this," Merlin said firmly. "This spell requires so much magical power. I doubt you could learn it anyway. I don't know if you would be able to cast it with a wand."

"Then help us create a new spell," urged Rowena. "Help us to fuse it with our own magic. We can adapt our Apparition techniques and incorporate these abilities. Could we do it?"

Merlin examined the spell and thought carefully. He wasn't sure how it could be done, but then again, he did not Apparate, and was not entirely sure how it worked. Perhaps …

"All right," he said. "I'll teach you the theory, and perhaps the four of you could come up with a better method of Apparating. Now, the main thing in Transporting, is that you must focus entirely on where you're going and move  _very_ deliberately and with determination,"

"Apparition is similar," said Rowena, nodding.

"Well, Transporting, it's kind of like a whirlwind, that sprits you away," he said. "You let the spell engulf you, and let yourself be carried by it. You must let yourself be literally whirled away."

They spoke a while longer on all the details of Transporting and Apparition, comparing the two. They could not practice, as Hogwarts had anti-Apparition jinxes over it. But Rowena and Salazar were combining their minds together and coming up with a great deal.

"We can't summon a whirlwind," said Salazar, "but perhaps, there is somethng similar to be done. Perhaps we should try … twisting ourselves."

_"Twisting?"_

"Yes. At the moment we just try to force ourselves to this new place, perhaps if we twist on the spot before we disappear, it would work. We would let ourselves blend into nothingness rather than trying to do it statically. We would be putting up less resistance."

Rowena thought about it, twirling a quill in her hand, "I think you're right, Salazar. It may work. We should experiment."

"Not tonight though," said Godric, yawning. "I'm exhausted."

"Agreed," said Helga, looking tired herself. "We should not attempt it when we are so fatigued, it could be dangerous. But I am optimistic. Perhaps we may be able to teach this at Hogwarts one day. After all, we're just borrowing techniques from Old Magic, not using it directly."

They all nodded and stood up, ready to leave for bed, when a house-elf came scurrying in

"Forgive me!" he squeaked, bowing. "But there is word from the village. A group Of Muggle-Born children is arriving in the village. They is scared and hurt, and the village needs Healers and sends for Lady Helga and Master Emrys if they will come."

Helga looked to Merlin and sighed. "It looks like bed shall have to wait," she said. "Of course we will come."

Half an hour later, and Merlin and Helga were riding into the village. Nessa met them, and led them back to the inn, Merlin and Helga both carrying some Healing supplies. They entered into the common room, where a group of about ten children were huddled in the middle, some clutching at injuries, all looking filthy and scared. The oldest boy, about fifteen years of age was watching over them all protectively, not heeding his own fatigue.

Helga crouched before the nearest child, nursing some bloodied feet; she had evidently walked the entire way barefoot.

"I won't hurt you," Helga reassuringly as the girl pulled back, afraid. "I want to help."

The girl glanced nervously to the oldest boy, who nodded. She turned back to Helga and looked at her kind smile, deciding to trust her. Helga began to tend to her. Merlin looked to the boy.

"You're Muggle-Borns?"

"Not all of us," he answered with a voice that seemed far too old for such a youthful face. "Only three are Muggle-Born. The rest of us lost our families to Muggles."

"And you looked after them?"

The boy nodded. "I had to. I heard there was a safe place far to the north where they were teaching children and giving them a home, so I brought them here."

"From where? How far have you come?"

"Chester," the boy answered.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "That's a long distance."

"The Muggles were angry," the boy said, his eyes dead. "We had to leave."

Merlin felt an upsurge of pity and admiration for this boy, still so young but looking out for others. He began to examine the children.

"How did they sustain injuries?"

"Muggles, animals, falls … we've had a rough journey."

"Well, it is over now," said Helga, smiling at the child before her, who smiled back nervously in return. "You are safe now."

"Can we go to the school?" one of the young girls asked. "Can we learn magic?"

Helga turned her radiant smile on her. "I don't see why not," she said. "One or two of you are a perhaps a little too young, but the rest of you are welcome. That is, if you don't mind working a little extra hard to catch up."

Immediately they all shook their heads, looking thrilled. They had never had such an opportunity before now, they weren't going to pass it up; they would as hard as needed to be worthy of the school that would accept them.

The boy seemed to sag in relief. Merlin watched him carefully. He wondered what horrors these children had endured, and whether or not they would have survived if not for this boy. He still watched them all protectively.

"What is your name?" Merlin asked the boy, as he examined a cut on a young boy's forehead that had healed badly.

"Mikael," he said.

"Well done, Mikael," Merlin said to him. "It was no small feat bringing them all here. The school will be honoured to have you."

The boy blushed a little, and avoided his gaze, and Merlin went back to his work. The children had obviously been traumatised in the past, and still jumped at loud noises and clutched at each other for reassurance.

Then, Merlin felt a creeping sensation on the back of his neck, something that made him very uneasy. He turned slowly and saw a group of men in dark clothes sitting at a table, clutching tankards of the now infamous village mead. At first, other than Merlin's bad feeling, there was nothing about them that seemed extraordinary, until Merlin noticed the cold glares they were giving the children in the middle of the room. All other residents of the village were helping the children, putting blankets around their shoulders and offering them food and drink, whilst these men just sat and stared at them, not offering the slightest assistance.

"Who are they?" Merlin asked Nessa, when she next passed with a tray, gesturing to the four men.

She stiffened a little as she saw them. "They arrived a few days ago," she informed him. "They've done nothing but sit in here every night and glare at everyone. They're beginning to frighten me. I'm thinking of sending them to the other inn. I no longer want them under my roof, I have a bad feeling about them."

"The other inn?" Merlin asked. "I thought this was the only one."

She shook her head. "Another one opened up last week, up the top of the village. It's not as nice as this place, if I say so. There are so many people coming here now that this inn just won't accommodate them all. I don't mind losing custom to them, those men unsettle me."

Merlin nodded, and let her return to her work. Those men gave him a bad feeling also. One of them caught his eye and Merlin involuntarily shuddered. There was something dead about that look, something unforgiving. He did not blame Nessa in the slightest for wanting them out of her inn.

He turned back to the children, and some of the villagers were leaning in and trying to feed them.

"Ryan!" snapped Helga, and a man hurriedly jumped to attention, withdrawing a flagon from a child's mouth. "That is mead!"

"Yes?"

"They're children!"

"I'm not trying to intoxicate them, my Lady!" he complained. "It's just to give them a little boost. Look how cold they are!"

"Well then, tend to the fire. Do not give alcohol to my new students."

"Nessa's mead can cure the greatest of ills," he insisted. "There's nothing better. Look how much happier they are."

Helga shook her head. "Nevertheless."

The man shrugged and took a swig of the mead himself. "All the more for me. The Hog's Mead is the best around!"

"Hog's Mead?' Merlin asked in confusion.

The man nodded, a little shaky on his feet. "That's what we're calling it now, you know, after the school. This place is the Hog's Mead because of the  _glorious_  mead and the other inn is the Hog's Head because it's … you know, at the top of the village … or something."

"The Hog's Mead?" Merlin asked, turning around to Nessa and switching to Gaelic. "Well, it's unique."

She rolled her eyes. "Do not blame me. The villagers started it. And it wouldn't sound so ridiculous if you had chosen a  _normal_ name for the school."

"Fair enough," Merlin laughed. "I like it."

Helga and Merlin stayed for several more minutes, making sure the children were physically patched up. She however was still worried about their mental state. She arranged for them to stay in the 'Hog's Mead' for the time being, and spoke to Nessa quietly and fluently, demonstrating yet more mastery in languages.

"Let them stay here as long as they wish," Helga said, passing her a large bag of coins. "Talk to them, listen to them. When you are certain they are ready, send them to the wandmaker and then to Elred for their wands and robes. And see if you can't find anyone who will take in those two younger children as well; they are not yet ready for school."

"You can count on me," Nessa promised.

Not long later, Merlin and Helga were riding back up to the castle. Merlin was deep in thought.

"What troubles you, Emrys?" she asked, moving her horse closer to his.

He sighed. "It was those men in the dark cloaks. They seemed … strange to me. They made me uneasy."

"I too," she confessed. She had an unusually grave expression on her face. "The village was founded to be a safe haven for all who were suffering persecution ," she said. "But inevitably, dark things will find their way into even the most noble of plans. Not everyone there can always be so kind as we are used to, more and more people will be attracted here, and not all of them will be to our taste."

"I did not like them" said Merlin. "They seemed dangerous to me. I fear what lurks there in that village."

She nodded solemnly. "Not all good things can last," she said, looking sadly up at the castle which was now looming closer. "One day, the school will be out of our hands, and who knows for what purpose it will be used in the future? Evil can never be eradicated, only kept at bay. It is the struggle against it that defines us."

Merlin nodded, feeling his heart heavy. Helga didn't know how true her words were. Merlin had thought once, long ago that he had eradicated the evil that threatened Camelot, but he had been wrong.

Well, he thought fiercely to himself, he would not fail again. He would not let Hogwarts face the same fate as Camelot.

He would die first.

 


	28. Apparition

"Godric, you  _cannot_  challenge students to duels!"

"Why not?"

"Because it is immoral!"

"I heard him! He was muttering to his friend. He said my hat was stupid."

"Your hat  _is_  stupid."

Godric frowned. "It is not!"

Helga sighed, laying down her cutlery and pushing aside her breakfast plate. "Godric, you must see how ridiculous this is. We are trying to maintain discipline amongst the students. How can we do that when one of their teachers challenges a fifteen year old to a duel in a corridor?"

"I fought in duels when I was fifteen."

"You had training Godric, and it wasn't right then either. What if you had hurt him?"

"Well, he would have learned not to insult me again!"

Helga rolled her eyes. "You are impossible. Godric, there are to be no more duels. Is that understood?"

"But-"

" _Is that understood?"_

"Yes, Helga,' said Godric, sulking.

Helga nodded, satisfied, and went back to her food. Salazar winked at Merlin. "A wise choice, don't you think? Helga would have annihilated him. She is more powerful than she lets on."

"And not to mention the fact Godric would never hurt her,' said Merlin, smiling back.

"Of course, he wouldn't want to ruin his … future chances," Salazar smirked, making Merlin laugh.

"What are you talking about?" Helga asked, turning to the two of them, and they both shrugged. "Nothing!"

As soon as she turned back, they smiled again. Godric was deeply in love with Helga, it was apparent to everyone in the school; the new caretaker appointed by the Founders was having to scrub graffiti off the walls about it almost every day. But Helga seemed to be oblivious, unless she was only pretending. It was funny; Godric was brave enough to take on dragons and rampaging hippogriffs without fear, but approaching Helga as something more than a mere friend? He was far too cowardly, or far too stubborn. As was she.

Salazar looked to Merlin again. "From what I hear," he said, his voice low, "you had better take this advice also. Rowena is furious that you're still refusing to let her try out her new theory of Apparition. You might want to reconsider before you … do irreparable damage."

Merlin felt himself blushing. "What do you mean?"

Salazar raised an eyebrow. "You know very well what I mean, Emrys. The house-elves talk. And from what I hear, the one who cleans your quarters and changes your sheets has had very little work to do lately. It seems you are spending your nights in other places."

Merlin flushed deeper, and Salazar sat back, a satisfied smile on his face. Merlin looked at him, defeated.

"You can keep this to yourself?"

"Naturally," he said. "I am very good at keeping secrets. And I'm not sure how Godric would take to this news; he's very protective, you know. You are no use to me hexed into oblivion. But I warn you, be more subtle. Others may be blind at present, but that may change soon."

Merlin nodded, still feeling embarrassed. He glanced down the table where Rowena was sitting side-by-side with Helena. True, he  _had_  been spending a lot of time with her lately. Perhaps too much.

"What do you intend to do today?" Salazar asked him. "It is now a month and a half since the school opened. Are you not yet bored?"

"I watch your lessons," he answered. "And I have Helena to teach in the afternoons and you four at weekends. I am run off my feet."

But the truth was, he was not. But neither was be bored. He enjoyed his life here. It was settled, and comfortable, more than he had known in a long time. It was almost like he'd imagined retirement would be like. It was almost perfect, except for the uneasiness in the village, and the constant reminders of the fact that Merlin would have to leave the castle one day; every lesson seemed to contain a mention of Camelot, and it only reminded Merlin of his inevitable destiny.

He wandered through the castle that morning looking in on several classes, never staying long. The Founders and the teachers seemed to be settling in extremely well to their new lives, as were the children. Even the ones who had only recently come to the school were enjoying themselves and working hard.

Come the afternoon he found himself sitting outside by the lake, watching the dark shape of the Giant Squid in the shallows. It was mid-October now, and the weather was beginning to grow chilly. Helena had a cold, and was up in her bed in Ravenclaw Tower under Scáthach's watchful eye, annoyed that she could not continue her lessons. Strange, he thought, he could cure her of a multitude of lethal plagues, yet the common cold was something that still eluded him.

"What are you thinking about?"

Merlin smiled as he heard the voice behind him. "Your daughter actually. She's very annoyed that she's missing her lessons with me."

Rowena came and stood beside him, looking out over the lake herself. "She is like me at that age," she said. "I too was eager to learn."

"Yes, but you wanted to escape from the loneliness of your life," Merlin said. "Helena wants to make you proud by becoming as smart as you. She wants people to respect her as they do you. Like you, she seems to think the only way to do this is by becoming intelligent."

Merlin stood up and tuned to face her. "You want a lesson as well?'

Rowena smiled. "How did you know?"

"I'm beginning to recognise that glint in your eye you get when you want to learn something. It is almost frightening."

She smiled even wider. "And there was I thinking you had very little intelligence."

She motioned to him to walk with her, and they were soon heading down to the village.

"You want to try out your new Apparition theory?" Merlin guessed. "Don't you have lessons?"

She shook her head. "There was … an accident. Most of the students are in the Hospital Wing getting bruises seen to and the house-elves are cleaning up the mess."

"And you didn't want to stay and help?"

"I'd much rather do this," she said, stiffly. "I have been itching to try out this new theory for weeks now."

"It could be dangerous."

"I have sufficiently calculated the risks and determined that my spell should counteract them," she said confidently. "Do not worry, I am not Godric who rushes unto dangerous situations.  _I_  have more sense than that."

"Really?" Merlin asked, amused. "We shall see."

He offered her his arm, and unusually, she took it, and they walked down to the village and outside of the school's protective wards. They found a spot outside of the village's wall and Merlin stopped and faced Rowena.

"Well, you think your theory is ready? Apparate to that log over there."

She raised her eyebrows and smiled. Then, she twisted on the spot and with a loud crack, she was standing by the log, smiling smugly.

"Other side of the village," Merlin said. With another crack, she disappeared. A few seconds later, he followed, summoning the whirlwinds that he used to move around and he too found himself on the other side of the village walls, looking at Rowena who was still smiling smugly.

"You see?" she said. "I knew my new theory would work."

He smiled. "This is not the real test. You were always able to do simple Apparition like this. What troubled you was distance. Can you Apparate hundreds of miles away?"

She smiled challengingly. "Name the spot."

"London," Merlin said, noting her momentary look of panic. "Apparate to London, and I shall know you have succeeded. To the hill that overlooks the entrance to the city gates."

She nodded. "So be it."

She stood standing there for a moment, concentrating fiercely. Then, she turned on the spot, and she disappeared. Merlin again, waited a moment before following.

Buffeting winds engulfed him, and when they subsided he found himself standing on the hill before the city of London. He looked at it for a moment, and turned to find Rowena. She was sitting on the ground, looking a little tired, but unharmed. She smiled triumphantly back up at him.

"I have succeeded," she said. She ignored the hand he offered her and lifted herself to her feet looking extremely pleased with herself. "I have invented a whole new method of Apparition."

"You, myself and the other Founders," he reminded her.

"I tested it," she said.

"True," he said. "Now let's go back."

"Immediately?"

"Yes," he said, trying not to smile. "After all, if the method is perfected, you should feel no fatigue whatsoever. Let us go."

She hesitated, but then nodded. "Very well."

She hesitated again, and then disappeared. Merlin followed. When he appeared back outside the walls of the village, a cry of pain met his ears. Rowena was lying on the ground, her arm bloody, clutching it in agony.

He bent down to tend to her, laying his hand over the wound, despite her protestations.

"You knew that would happen didn't you?" she asked him furiously.

"I suspected," he admitted. "I wasn't sure."

"Then why did you not warn me?"

"Because this was one lesson I felt you had to learn on your own," he said, his eyes burning as he cast his spell. "You rushed into this, Rowena. Take your time. Learn to walk before you learn to run."

"Are you saying that I am arrogant?"

"Sometimes," he said, winking. "You are so determined to show how clever you are. Taking the time to learn something properly is no shame."

She scowled at him. "And you thought having a huge chunk of flesh torn out of my arm to be sufficient reason to teach me a lesson? I am mutilated!"

"Are you?" Merlin asked.

She looked down at her arm, and true enough, there was no trace of the wound there, save her bloodied clothes. She gazed at it in amazement, and looked back up at Merlin.

He smiled, and leaned forwards and kissed her on the forehead. "Come on," he said, helping her to her feet. "You're shaky on your feet. Perhaps we should go and see if some of Nessa's Hog's Mead cannot aid you."

"I do not drink mead," she said, though she stumbled and had to be caught by Merlin.

"Then it is time that you started," he said, guiding her through the gates and nodding to the guards. "The villagers swear it has therapeutic qualities."

"The villagers are hardly qualified to-"

"Because they're illiterate and uneducated they are unable to have intelligent conversations?" Merlin asked. "Sometimes common sense and knowledge of the world count for far more."

They went to the inn, now with a small sign outside it saying 'Hog's Mead'. Nessa had apparently given up trying to find a better name for her inn; the villagers were insistent.

The room was as warm and cosy as ever, and he led Rowena to a table where Nessa came over with two flagons of mead, Rowena drank some sparingly, coughing at the strength of it. Merlin laughed, and she scowled at him. They sat there for several minutes in silence.

"Lady Rowena! Master Emrys!"

The Druid, Ceran, had entered the inn, and came straight towards their table. He bowed briefly to Rowena and took a seat, despite Merlin's less than warm welcome.

He looked around. "Not a bad little place," he observed. "But hardly of your caibre, my Lady."

"It serves us." Merlin said, not liking his tone.

Ceran shrugged. "Simplicity is often good, do not get me wrong. I believe in it fiercely. That is why, as you know, I reject modern magical methods."

"Yet still you teach at Hogwarts," said Merlin. "If you are so against modern magic, why do wish to teach here?"

"Divination is something that has not changed," he said, "and I wish to help as many children as possible. Perhaps some I can convince to follow the Old Ways."

"And do you know what the Old Ways even are?" Merlin asked. He shouldn't be getting so riled up, but this man, along with all modern 'Druids' really tried his patience.

"Of course I do!" the Druid said. "They have been passed down by my ancestors for generations. We and we alone have the power of the Old Religion."

Rowena shot Merlin a curious look here but said nothing. Merlin smiled at the Druid, even though he felt like doing anything but.

"The Old Religion?" Merlin asked. "I thought it had faded from the world, leaving only the barest remnants left, so weak that no modern sorcerer can use them to any great effectiveness."

"That is what many believe," said Ceran, smiling indulgently at Merlin. "But it is not so. We Druids alone have remained true to the spirit of the Old Ways."

"Really?" Merlin said, getting more and more annoyed at the way the man was treating him; almost like a child. "Then why is Druidic magic so much weaker, and the Druids now so insignificant in the wider picture of modern society?"

He had ruffled Ceran's feathers here, he could see. It seemed to be taking him a great deal of effort to remain polite.

"Power is not everything," the Druid said. "We will not betray the Old Ways because they are now more difficult. Merlin himself used this magic, and we follow in his footsteps. One day he shall return and restore the Old Religion to its rightful place in the world. We will be patient, and hold faith until that day. Merlin would approve."

"Would he?" Merlin asked.

"Yes," Ceran said. He caught sight of a man waving to him across the room. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to. My Lady."

He stood up and crossed the room, leaving Merlin feeling unsatisfied.

Rowena was watching him with an annoying perceptive look in her eye.

"What?" he asked.

"Why do you berate him for holding onto the past?" she asked. "It is the exact same thing that you do."

"I do not," Merlin said, though it was somewhat of a lie, finding himself preparing himself to repeat all the old lies once again. "I look forwards to a better future. I do not wish to return to the past, or restore the old city of Camelot. Those days were flawed. We are creating a better future now."

"But you hold onto your own past," she said. "You practice the Old Religion even though you say that the days of Camelot and of Merlin should not be emulated, but improved upon. Why are you any different from the Druids?"

How was he? Well, he had the Old Religion proper, not like them, who used a shadowy imitation of it. He was destined the bring it back to the world, and the Druids … well, they were pretending to themselves.

"The Old Religion will be restored to the world one day," he said. "But … the Druids refuse to integrate with modern society. That is foolish."

"Why? Perhaps the Old Religion will be restored one day soon?"

He shook his head sadly. "No, it will not. "

"Then why should they not hold on to their ancient beliefs?" she asked.

"Because they are wrong," he said, exasperatedly. "What they practice is not even close to what the original Druids did!"

"And how do you know that?" she asked. "Why are the beliefs about the Old Religion you hold any greater than theirs?"

_Because mine are the only true ones._

The truth was, he hated the Druids because they clung onto Camelot. They clung to the Old Ways. Merlin could not think of Camelot without great pain, he tried to distance himself from it. He was trying to create a better world in the future, combining Camelot's glory with a new world. He wasn't trying to bring Camelot back. The Druids only reminded him of what he was trying to escape from.

They didn't stay much longer than that. They stood up to leave as soon as Merlin noticed some of the colour returning to Rowena's cheeks. As they left, Merlin felt another chill down his spine. Outside the inn, skulking in a nearby doorway were the same men from a few weeks before, shady, and with solemn features, emanating discomfort.

Merlin tried to ignore them, but all the way back up the main street, all he felt was their eyes on his back. He really did not like those men. Something about them foreboded bad things to come.

He shook it off however, and escorted Rowena back to the castle. They walked past the stables and past the stocks, where some second year boy was locked up. He looked absolutely miserable.

"Ronan!" Rowena cried. "Whatever did you so to earn such punishment?"

"I didn't do anything, my Lady!" the boy protested. "It was Hyperion Bellum! He shoved me in here and left me. Just because I would not help him with his Arithmancy homework!"

Rowena narrowed her eyes. "Are you telling me the truth, Ronan? Or did a teacher place you here and you are seeking to end your punishment?"

"Honest, my Lady!" Ronan said eagerly. "I swear!"

Rowena looked him over for a moment before removing her wand from her pocket. The clasps holding the block sprang loose and the boy wriggled free. He bowed quickly to Rowena, rubbing his aching neck and wrists. Merlin winced in sympathy; he had been there himself far too often.

"Thank you, my Lady!"

"You are a good boy, Ronan," she said. "I have not observed any questionable behaviour from you so far, so I am inclined to take your word as truth. If however I find out you lied to me …"

"I wasn't," Ronan shook his head. "Thank you!"

"Classes are almost over for today so I recommend you go straight into dinner."

And with that he hurried back to the castle.

Merlin shook his head as he resumed his walk with Rowena. "I told Godric those stocks were a bad idea. Students will use them to play pranks on each other. And not every teacher will believe the student when they say they are not supposed to be there."

Rowena nodded. "I am inclined to believe you. Godric however believes that the stocks will prevent misbehavior  _and_ teach students how to defend themselves against being placed there unlawfully."

Merlin sighed. "Stubborn."

They entered the Entrance Hall, where the first smells of the almost ready dinner were already wafting up from the kitchens. He was about to head inside with Rowena, when he noticed a figure come down the marble staircase and into the Great Hall. It was Augustus, the boy from Tomin's class, and if Merlin remembered correctly, he should have been in Muggle Studies.

"Excuse me," he said to Rowena, and headed up the stairs to the Muggle Studies class, leaving Rowena standing bewildered in the Entrance Hall. As he made his way to the classroom, the great bell started to ring and classrooms throughout the castle opened and crowds of students poured out. Merlin squeezed past them all to get to the right class.

He entered as soon as he found it, and it was empty of all but two people. Olwyn Briar, the teacher who was always so upbeat and enthusiastic was sitting at her desk, her eyes red-rimmed and watery. Tomin was standing before her.

"Don't listen to him, Miss," Tomin was saying. "You're the best teacher here! I really like this class."

Olwyn sniffed miserably. "Thank you Tomin, but I-"

Now she had spotted Merlin standing in the doorway.

She immediately stood up and tried to regain her composer. "Thank you, Tomin, you can go down to diner now."

Tomin looked worried, but left. Merlin gave him a small smile as he left, and then went back to Olwyn, who seemed on the verge of tears.

"I saw Augustus in the Entrance Hall," Merlin said. "He left the class early. Why?"

Olwyn seemed to crumple at his words. "Oh, it was awful, Emrys! He just stormed out! He said he would not listen to my classes anymore. I did not know what to do!"

Some more tears fell from her eyes, and Merlin moved closer and offered her a handkerchief.

"What did he say?"

She dabbed at her eyes. "The most horrid things … I could not believe that a child was saying these things! He has had no personal experience with Muggles in his life, and he would not listen to me when I told him his perceptions were flawed."

She cried a little more. "I know I am being silly. I  _am_  silly. The students laugh at me."

"That is not true," Merlin said, placing a hand on her arm. "Many of the students enjoy your classes. Tomin-"

"Tomin is just one boy," she said. "Many of them, particularly the Pure-Blooded ones, hate me."

Merlin was silent for a moment. "It does not matter," he said to her firmly. "You are not here to be popular. As long as one student listens, as long as one student believes, then that is enough. Do not care what others think."

She shook her head, more tears spilling from her eyes. "That is not enough!" she said. "I am here to change the way these children think! I am supposed to teach them how to get along with Muggles peacefully, but they treat me as a joke! This is something vitally important, yet I blabber away like a silly child!"

Merlin sighed. "True, Olwyn, you are very enthusiastic. But that is no bad thing. It is who you are. Students will listen. It may not be right away, but the message will never get out if we give up at the first trial."

She sniffed. She began playing with a small pendent around her neck. "This is so important to me," she said. "My … my grandparents did not approve of my parent's marriage. They thought my mother was unnatural. When she died, my father died soon after, and they looked after me. They were … harsh, when it came to trying to get me to renounce my magic. I eventually had to run away. I know what these students may one day have to suffer. I want to prepare them, and I want to give them hope … but it seems that I am preaching to a solid wall. None of them can conceive of Muggles as anything more than animals. Yet … my father was the gentlest soul known to man. I want to show them Muggles are not evil, yet in this world, it is becoming harder and harder. Sometimes I wonder if I am correct in doing this. Sometimes I wonder if my father was not just an anomaly, it does seems there is more evil in the world than not."

"Don't believe that," Merlin said. "There is good among Muggles. It may be hard to see, but we should not give up. This is a long road, Olwyn, the hatred may not disappear with this generation, or the next, or even a hundred years from now. But someone has to start the process. The Muggles may not thank us, but we  _must_  begin this path of peace. One day in the future, they will want peace, and we will be ready for them. Do not give up, Olwyn."

She smiled weakly at him, blinking away a few more tears. "You are a Half-Blood also, are you not? Do you honestly believe that in years to come, we will not be as rare as we are now?"

"I have every faith," he said to her.

She nodded, after looking into his eyes for several moments. She wiped away the last of the tears, and straightened up. "Then I will believe you,' she said courageously. "I will not give up. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a young boy to find and reprimand."

She left the classroom, leaving Merlin leaning against the desk and thinking hard. Had he just believed anything he had just said?

He felt like a hypocrite. So often he himself wondered if there was any good left amongst Muggles since Camelot's downfall, and despairing as he contemplated how there could ever be peace between the two peoples. Why was he so certain when he was saying it to her?

Maybe it was because, here he saw real effort to change. Olwyn Briar may not become famous, or renowned or particularly influential, but she was proof of the fact that not all decency and goodwill had been lost along with the Old Religion. As long as there were people like her, there was still a chance.

He smiled to himself as he sat there, alone in the classroom. This school, this subject, this teacher, all proof of a new way of thinking. The message would be given out from this building, and the people themselves could choose whether or not to listen. But at least it was there.

And as long as Hogwarts was here to preach these ideas, Merlin saw a genuine hope for the future.


	29. The Sorting

The end of October was now rapidly approaching, and with it the combined Hallowe'en celebrations and the Sorting Ceremony. Immediately, gossip began to whisper around the school about which Houses each of them thought they would be Sorted into. Fights broke out in the corridors, and taunts were exchanged on all sides. Many of the wealthier Pure-Bloods seemed to want to be Ravenclaws, since they thought themselves more intelligent than the Muggle-Borns and the peasants. Younger students wanted to be Gryffindors, and stalked the corridors challenging everyone to duels, hoping Godric was watching so they could demonstrate their bravery. Older students played pranks on each other, displaying their cunning and subtlety to try and impress Salazar, even though they were so subtle the true culprit was often never caught. The poor caretaker was going mad.

No one however seemed to really want to be Hufflepuff (at least, not that anyone would admit) which Merlin thought was a real shame. Helga valued loyalty, hard work and kindness; these qualities, although admirable, were not as glamourous to the students as courage, ambition and intelligence.

The Founders were agonising over it, and their lessons were spent mainly observing their students incredibly carefully. The students were all too aware of this, and continued their attempts to try and impress the Founder of their choice.

It was almost laughable, some of these attempts. One girl, seeing Rowena passing by, started reciting poetry in Ancient Greek, unaware that some Slytherin-wanabee had bewitched her from behind. Instead of rattling off the epics of Homer, the girl began to recite some of the more vulgar Greek love poetry.

A Slytherin contender tried to play an elaborate prank on another student by giving them a pig's tail, but instead, transformed the student entirely into a wild boar, tusks and all. The whole of the third floor had to be evacuated while the student-pig was caught and then Transfigured back by a very annoyed Alfred Blackwood.

One boy, desperate to be a Gryffindor even tried the impossible: trying to catch Peeves. He did not, however, take too kindly to being shoved into an old chest, and emerged a few seconds later armed with armfuls of robes which he then used to try and strangle every passing student. Godric however, despite the whole thing going wrong, still applauded the child's courage in attempting the task.

Two days before Hallowe'en, and the Founders, teachers and Merlin were gathered in Godric's quarters in Gryffindor Tower going through each and every student.

"What about Ryan Green?" Helga asked, looking through her notes. "He's a very good student. Ravenclaw perhaps?"

Rowena shook her head, her nose wrinkled. "He does not apply himself. He may be intelligent, but he has no love for learning."

"But he has the natural propensity to succeed in other areas," Salazar said. "The lad has organised his fellow students into small groups dedicated to study, and appointed himself leader. He runs them very efficiently. It may be a small thing, but it demonstrates ambition. I think I may claim him."

"I want Gareth," said Godric eagerly. "Such a brave lad."

"Yes, he was very adept in helping capture that Hippogriff a few weeks ago," Kerr, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher said. "He was fearless."

"What about his younger sister?"

"She is a sweet girl," said Helga, smiling. "Quiet, but she's proven herself to be very skilled at Healing."

"And at Potions," said Salazar. "She works hard."

"Yes, even in Latin," said Agrippina Pompey. "She is mediocre at best, but she tries. A pleasant girl, gets along with everyone."

"I shall probably claim her," Helga nodded. "She has a good heart and wishes to help others more than herself."

Rowena nodded and shifted the parchments before her. "Only a few more left to discuss," she said. "Hermes Lestrange?"

"A little arrogant," said Alfred Blackwood.

"Gryffindor then?"

"Be quiet, Salazar," glared Godric. "Anyway ... yes, he is a little arrogant. But he is talented nonetheless. It is merely the brashness of youth that makes him so … confident. He is good enough. He looks after the younger students in the boy's dormitory admirably. That shows chivalry … and  _that_ is why he should be a Gryffindor."

"Finally … Tomin?"

"Such a sweet boy," said Olwyn Briar. "He cares for others a great deal. A Hufflepuff I think."

"But he stands up admirably for his friends," said Godric. "Brave lad. Gryffindor?"

"He is ambitious," said Salazar. "In the last few months he has turned from an illiterate draper's assistant into a capable student. I think Slytherin."

"Ah, but he is fiercely intelligent," said Rowena. "He applies himself excellently and has come on in leaps and bounds. He loves to read."

True, thought Merlin; every time he saw Tomin it was with a book in his hands.

"Well, the Ceremony should be interesting," said Merlin, laughing. "It will be whoever can shout the loudest that gets him."

"We still have two days to ruminate on it," said Rowena, folding up her scrolls. "I suggest we make full use of them."

"Have you all given any thought to how the Ceremony shall be conducted when you four eventually retire?" Merlin asked, as the people in the room began to disperse.

"None," said Godric. "It is leaving me extremely perplexed."

"They could just take names out of a hat," shrugged Salazar. "Though not  _that_  hat, Godric. It still looks ridiculous."

"There is nothing wrong with my hat!"

Rowena, Helga and Merlin slipped away from their bickering and turned off down another corridor and behind a concealed passageway. It was late at night, and the castle was silent.

"Are we ready for tomorrow?" Helga asked. "A visit to the village should be beneficial to all the students. Especially the ones who have family there."

"They will run riot," said Rowena. "Give them an ounce of freedom and they will abuse it."

"I beg to differ," said Helga, as they reached the staircase. "Well, I bid you goodnight." And she left.

Merlin and Rowena continued along the seventh floor. He turned to Rowena in curiosity.

"I thought one of the main reasons you had founded this school was to give children freedom?"

"To give their minds freedom," Rowena said. "But children need certain boundaries."

"But surely they must be prepared for the world?

"Then let only the older students go," Rowena said. "I have great misgivings about this."

Merlin stopped her with his arm and they stood alone in the darkened corner. He searched her face.

"It is about those men in the village, is it not?"

She nodded. "They … trouble me. Something about them unnerves me."

"I feel it too," Merlin said. "But surely the children deserve to have some time to themselves?"

"I … I …"

"You worry about them," finished Merlin, smiling. "How very like Helga you are becoming; an overprotective mother."

"I am not!" she said, fiercely. "I think this visit is a bad idea."

"Simply because it is out of your control," said Merlin. "You cannot control everything, Rowena. Think about what it will be like for Helena. One day she shall grow up and marry, and then you will no longer have to worry about her."

She nodded, and they began walking together, though she still looked troubled.

"You are taking Helena to the village tomorrow?" she asked him. "I would have taken her myself. I promised, but my workload-"

"I will take her," Merlin assured her. "I could hardly disappoint her now. She is so looking forward to it."

"She looks up to you," Rowena told him, her voice sad. "I wanted her to like you. But … I spend so little time with her these days. I fear you are becoming a parent to her in my stead."

Merlin felt a little tingle of alarm at these words. True, he looked after Helena for times, but he would hardly call it parenting. He would inevitably have to leave this castle one day, how would Helena take it? Would she understand like her mother?

"She understands," Merlin told her. "It will not always be this way."

They had reached the door to Rowena's quarters. She paused in the doorway, biting her lip and looking unusually anxious.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned.

She hesitated. "It's …. Oh, I have such a misgiving about tomorrow. It is a great feeling deep inside of me that I cannot explain. It is almost overwhelming. I am afraid."

"You do not need to worry," said Merlin, reaching out and pulling her into an embrace. "I shall let no harm come to her."

She nodded, and clung to him, burying her head in his chest. He laughed softly. "This is so unlike you, Rowena. You do not easily succumb to irrational fear."

"Nothing is irrational when it comes to the safety of my daughter," said Rowena, stepping back a little. "There is nothing I would not do for her."

"That is as it should be," he said, and softly leaned in and kissed her. She kissed him back with an intensity that surprised him, clutching at his robes and pulling him closer, unusually vulnerable. As usual, Merlin's mind went almost entirely blank, completely intoxicated by her presence, by her closeness.

All warnings that Salazar had given him went out the window. He had tried being more distant with her, for appearances sake, but he could not stay away. He liked who he was around her. He liked this impulsive side of him, the side of him that had been buried for almost three hundred years.

She pulled back, and Merlin stood there a little breathless. She remained close to him and kept her arms around his neck for a few moments, their foreheads touching. Eventually, she stepped back, and led him, quite willingly, though the door to her quarters.

Again, all reason and arguments for impartiality fled from his mind. He knew he would not be leaving this Tower again tonight.

* * *

 

The morning of the visit down to the village dawned bright, and there was an excited mutter around the halls of Hogwarts. Several students were eager to visit their families (letters to them after all were useless as many families could not read) and all the others were eager to browse the shops, go for a drink in the inn or just wander around for some free time.

Merlin watched all the students talking excitedly at breakfast and smiled to himself. He had no idea why Rowena was so worried. He had no inkling of anything being wrong, and his instincts were better than hers. Everything would be alright.

Breakfast began to dissipate, as students rose to their feet chattering away and heading towards the front doors with their friends to travel down to the village, still discussing the Sorting Ceremony that would take place the following evening.

As if on cue, there was a tugging at Merlin's sleeve. Helena was standing next to him, pulling at him with an expectant look on her face.

"What?" Merlin asked innocently. She frowned and crossed her arms.

"You promised!"

"I know I did," said Merlin, laughing, and stood up. "Come on then."

She grinned and ran around the table and up through the centre of the Great Hall, and Merlin had to rush to keep up. Rowena smiled as he passed, and Godric was chuckling.

"She'll rush you off your feet, you know!" Godric said. "Believe me, I know. Thank goodness you're her favourite now, she always tired me out!"

Merlin stopped to shoot some witty retort back, but Helena was jumping up and down in the entrance to the doorway.

"Emrys!"

With difficulty, Merlin bit his tongue and left Godric laughing to himself. Before he left however, he looked at Rowena and nodded slightly. Her worried expression abated slightly, and she nodded back.

He turned then and left the Great Hall, making sure he could still see Helena up ahead of him, winding her way through the crowds. Some of the teachers were heading down to the village also, leaving the Founders to themselves in order to finalise their House choices. Students were walking down the path to the village in small groups, cloaks pulled up tightly around their faces from the biting winds.

Helena skipped along happily beside him, pointing out things along the road, keeping her eyes peeled for unicorns. Merlin couldn't help but glance at her from time to time. Was Rowena right? Was he becoming a parent to her?

The idea normally would not be displeasing. She was a sweet girl, and his feelings for her mother … well, normally he would not object. But one day he was going to leave this castle and never return in her lifetime. Would Helena be able to understand that in the way her mother would? Would she resent him? Was it really such a wise thing to let her become so attached to him?

But she had her mother, and Godric, Salazar and Helga. They would still be here when he left, she would not be alone. Still, it troubled him to think of the day he would have to leave. He was growing too attached to Rowena, telling himself that knowing he would leave her would make the eventual day easier, but he could not shake off the bad feeling he got when he thought of leaving Helena as well. He was growing very attached to her, unreservedly so.

It was a mess, he couldn't help but think. He'd come to Hogwarts thinking these four people would be the ones who would end his immortality and was therefore not afraid to grow attached to them and form relationships, only to discover that his waiting was not over. He had allowed himself to grow attached to those around him, he could not prevent that now. Whatever happened, leaving would be painful. He should have been more reserved when he arrived at the castle and not allowed himself to grow fond of its inhabitants until he was certain they would bring back the Old Religion.

But then, he thought, glancing once more at Helena, perhaps this was the Old Religion's plan. He had been happier at Hogwarts than at any point over the first three centuries of waiting. Maybe he was supposed to take some joy out of these people, perhaps it was more of a blessing than a curse; to prevent him from continuing on as a bitter old man. They were here to remind him of what he was fighting for.

"Emrys!" cried Helena, noticing that his attention was no longer on her. "Where are we going?"

They had arrived at the village, and students everywhere were spilling into shops and inns having fun.

"Well, where do you want to go?" Merlin asked her.

They trailed down the high street. Merlin bought her a couple of sweet cakes out of the baker's and they looked in the windows of the shops. Many more had popped up since Merlin had first arrived here, almost a year ago now, and they sold almost everything. Helena was amused for the longest time looking at the building that housed the messenger service, where hundreds of owls were kept, ready for sending letters. She giggled looking at all the different kinds of owls, some of them from far off lands, some bigger than her head and others small enough to fit into her palm. He smiled as he watched her; the new method of carrying letters wizards had developed was certainly original. He could never have guessed that people would trust important messages to owls of all things. But it was safe, and faster than express horsemen.

They moved further down the street and came to Elred and Hilda's house. Since Merlin had been here last they had added another room to the house that they now used for their business. They went inside and Elred greeted them warmly, and shouted through to the back room for Hilda.

"Emrys! How good to see you!" he beamed. "And little Miss Ravenclaw as well, of course."

"I hope you got the cakes we sent to you," Hilda said, as she came through. "Did your mother give them to you?"

"Yes," said Helena. She started sniffing hopefully. "Have you got any more?"

"Helena," Merlin reprimanded, but Hilda laughed.

"Of course, growing children deserve a bit of feeding up. I've just put some in the oven, they'll be ready soon if you want to stay and wait?"

Helena nodded eagerly. Tomin appeared from the room behind and nodded shyly to Merlin.

"Tomin has been telling us all about his studies," Elred said. "It sounds fascinating. I almost can't wait until the Governor's meeting at Yuletide. I feel incredibly knowledgeable now!"

"Oh, be quiet," said Hilda, rolling her eyes. "You'll make yourself look a fool."

Elred shrugged, and Helena giggled. He smiled down at her. "Now, little miss, what are we going to do with you while you're waiting on your cakes?"

He crossed his arms, and rubbed his chin contemplatively. "I know,' he said. "What about a new dress?"

Helena's eyes lit up. "A dress?"

"Yes, free of charge!" Elred said. "Would you like that?"

"You don't need to do that," said Merlin quickly, "I can pay-"

"I won't hear of it," said Elred, shaking his head. "That commission for the school uniforms has brought me in a fortune. How else do you think we could afford to build this extension? It's only a small dress, and we owe her mother so much."

Helena looked at him with pleading eyes, and Merlin felt himself succumbing.

"Alright," he sighed. "But if your mother asks, I paid for it, alright?" He didn't think Rowena would take too kindly to accepting something like this.

Helena nodded, and Elred led her away excitedly to pick out a fabric for the dress. Merlin went through to the back room with Hilda, and Tomin who was sitting at the table.

"You don't have to do homework today, Tomin," Merlin said, glancing at the parchment before him. "Today is supposed to be a holiday!"

He shrugged. "I want it finished. I like to learn."

Merlin nodded. Perhaps Rowena was right; the boy  _was_  a natural Ravenclaw. He certainly was eager to learn.

As Helena got measured up for her dress, Tomin finished his work and slung it over his shoulder in a bag.

"May I be excused?" he asked Hilda. "I said I would meet my friend Lachlan by the Hog's Mead."

"Of course,' said Hilda, "you don't need to ask, child. This is your home remember. Just come and see us again before you head back up to the castle?"

He nodded and kissed her on the cheek before heading outside, leaving Hilda and Merlin alone in the room.

"A friend," sighed Hilda happily. "I'm so pleased. When he first arrived he did not speak for weeks, I feared he never would find happiness. The school has given him so much."

"He's a very good student, by all accounts," Merlin said, sitting down in Tomin's vacated chair. "And he sticks up admirably for others. He does you proud."

She smiled. "That he does. I only wish he would open up to us more. He still does not tell us the circumstances of how he came to be here. I only hope that in time that will change."

"Children recover easily," said Merlin, "whatever horrors he suffered, the kindest thing you can do is show him love rather than ask him about them until he is ready."

She nodded, and sat down at the table before him. She was watching him perceptively.

"You seem very knowledgeable about children," she said. "Have you ever had any?"

"No," Merlin answered. "But working in a school filled with them has certainly opened my eyes."

"And what about Helena?" Hilda asked him.

He involuntarily stiffened. "What about her?"

"She spends a great time with you," Hilda observed.

"She has no father, and her mother and the other Founders are busy with the school," he said by way of explanation. "She needs someone around."

"Has she no nanny?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Emrys," said Hilda firmly, staring him straight in the eye. "There is more to it than simple kindness. You look after her like one of your own. I have to ask … is she?"

"No!" Merlin spluttered in outrage. "Certainly not. You remember when I arrived here, that was the first time I'd met _any_  of the Founders!"

She nodded, though still didn't look convinced. "Rumours have reached us … even down here in the village about the … relationship between you and Lady Rowena."

Merlin flushed bright red at her words, immediately contradicting any denial that might have come from his mouth. "Oh?"

She leaned in a little closer. "I don't usually pry, Emrys, but I care about you and wish you to be happy. Is there any truth to these rumours?"

He looked down at his hands, feeling intensely uncomfortable. "Perhaps … a little."

She smiled, and glanced to the door to make sure Elred and Helena were still in the shop. "I knew it. Tell me … why do you try to keep it secret?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's … only appropriate. She is a young widowed mother of noble heritage, and I … I'm a lowly physician of no birth or wealth. We don't need to give the Wizards' Council any more reason to hate us."

"Don't you think these rumours would be more harmful than admitting it?" she said. "They would question her morals. It could be damaging to her reputation."

"I know," sighed Merlin. He'd thought as much the other day when one of the teachers had made a throwaway mark that seemed to allude to their closeness.

"Is this happiness really worth such risks?" she asked him gently. "Do you care deeply for her?"

He was silent a long time. Just how much did he care for her?

"Yes," he admitted.

"Do you love her?"

Merlin froze, and his heart raced. No, he could not even consider this possibility. He could not,  _would_  not. He could never admit it. If he did, he would never be able to leave her.

"It's complicated," Merlin said, truthfully, his heart still beating fast as he remembered. He could not admit it, not even to himself. He had loved Freya, and still did at heart. Was it possible to love another woman? Ought he to?

"Why then do you not marry her?" Hilda asked. "It would lessen the damage to her reputation, and cease harmful rumourmongering, and Helena would have a father finally."

"No," he said. "We never could. One day …" he paused, feeling a sharp stab of pain. "One day … I must leave the castle. I could never have a lifetime with her, even if I wanted one. I can't commit to something like this; it would not be fair to Helena, or to Rowena."

"Leave?" Hilda asked, sounding hurt. "Why must you?"

He sighed, and looked at her sadly. He'd thought so much about the pain of losing the Founders and Helena he had forgotten he had ties in the village as well. He could not remain lifelong friends with Hilda and Elred either, one day they would die too.

"I cannot explain," he said, holding her hand in hers. "It is my fate to always move from place to place and never set up roots anywhere. But do not despair … I foresee that it will not be for several years yet."

She still looked upset, but she managed a tiny smile. "Well, then," she said, squeezing his hand back. "We shall have to treasure those years while they last, shan't we?"

He nodded, though his heart and mind were still teeming with painful and conflicting emotions. Why had he had to come here? Why had he had to build roots and foundations here? Would he ever be strong enough to leave?

At that moment, Helena came rushing through the door, twirling around in a brand new midnight blue dress that shimmered as she moved.

"Look!" she squealed, twirling on the spot. "A blue dress, like mama's favourite one! I feel like a princess!"

"You look like one," smiled Merlin. "But you'd better get changed. These cakes are ready and you don't want to spoil it."

She grinned and rushed off to get changed. Elred grinned at Merlin.

"A beautiful dress if I do say so," he said. "I don't often get to make things of that quality; usually just cloaks and hats and the like. I need to finish the trimming on it though; I'll send it up to the castle tomorrow morning and she can wear it to the Sorting Ceremony."

"Thank you," said Merlin. "I wish you'd let me pay for it though."

"Nope," said Elred. "You've done enough by helping Tomin into that school."

Merlin wanted to protest, but knew he was beaten. He looked around a little, and noticed how much better off the place seemed to be. That commission must really have been good for business.

They sat for a while longer, Helena tucking into the cakes Hilda baked, and chatted a little about the school and what house Tomin was likely to be Sorted into.

As the day went on, they said their goodbyes, and they left the house once more, wandering up and down the street. Students had began to disperse now and head back up to the castle, laughing and examining the purchases they had made whilst others bid goodbyes to their families.

Merlin was about to lead Helena back up to the castle, when a horrible feeling of foreboding crept over him. He froze in the middle of the street and cast about with his magic, alert for danger.

"Emrys?" Helena asked, but Merlin did not answer. Something was wrong.

Up ahead of him, the group of black-cloaked men who Merlin had previously mistrusted were emerging from a shop, glaring at the students that passed by. They stopped and stared at one group of students in particular, one that Merlin recognised as the group that had started late; the group of Muggle Borns.

"You scum!" the lead man shouted, glaring at one boy. "Get out of here!"

"Why won't you?" the lead boy, Mikael, Merlin remembered, said bravely.

"You disgust me, Mudblood," the man said. "Stick with your own kind!"

"Yeah!" one of his accomplices grunted. "Why couldn't the Muggles have burned you along with your filthy relatives?"

"Shut your mouth!" the boy yelled, as one of the young girls with him began to cry.

"Scum like you shouldn't be allowed around normal people," the lead man said. "We don't need corruptive  _filth_  like you."

The boy and a couple others with him and on the street gathered to watch withdrew their wands. The men in black cloaks laughed, horrible cruel laughs.

The lead man drew his own wand and rested it on his other hand, his eyes glinting.

"And what are you going to do, Mudblood," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're not a  _real_  wizard. Let me show you what we can do."

He lifted his wand and screamed: "S _aucia!"_

The boy, completely unprepared could do nothing more than duck out of the way as the spell hit the wall behind him. People in the street, villagers and students began to scream and run away. The Muggle-Born children with Mikael fell back in fear, cornered and unable to fight back.

Merlin turned to Helena and grabbed her by her shoulders, looking into her eyes urgently. "Helena, listen to me. Run back to Elred and Hilda's house, alright? Run straight back there and don't look back. Tell them what's happening and wait for me there. Do you understand? Run and  _stay there."_

Helena nodded, her eyes wide with fear and stumbled back up the street. Merlin took out his own wand and rushed forwards.

"Stop!" he cried, pointing his wand at the lead man. His eyes narrowed.

"How dare you think you can point a wand at me!" he said. "What right have you?"

"I just saw you attack a child," said Merlin coldly. "I have every right."

"He provoked me!" the man spat. "He is  _scum-"_

"He is a child!" Merlin shouted. "I saw the whole thing.  _You_  were the instigator. If you value your life then I suggest you leave right now."

"Is that a threat?" the man asked, a scowl on his face.

"It is a promise," said Merlin, glaring back at the man. "This school does not discriminate. We are not all as narrow-minded, as bigoted or as plain  _stupid_ as you."

"You dare!" the man yelled, his eyes popping. "I am Lord Prelin! I am from a noble and  _Pure_ -Blooded background and have the ear of Chief Merrol of the Wizards' Council himself! I will not be insulted! I have no respect for you or your school. It is doomed to fail as long as scum like  _this_ are allowed to attend!"

And with that, he cast a powerful spell towards him. Merlin raised a shield easily, but soon, all the members of Prelin's group were casting spells both at him and at the students. He saw a couple children fall down with cries of pain.

A fiery rage was ignited in Merlin, and he forgot all about the illusion of wand magic.

" _Acwellan!_ " he cried, and a bolt of magical energy came from his palm with the intensity of a raging fire.

Prelin's eyes went wide as the spell hit him and he flew backwards and landed hard on the ground. But Merlin didn't have time to relax. More spells were coming straight at him, and worse, the children, who were ducking behind houses and each other to keep out of the firing line. By now, several villagers and older students had joined in, and the air was rife with multi-coloured jets of light crisscrossing through it. Merlin ducked a couple of times, and moved towards the students. He hurriedly cast a Shield Charm around them and told them to run back up the street as quickly as possible. But yet more children were cowering in fear from the battle between the villagers and the men in black.  _He had to get to them._

He cast a powerful Shield around himself and ran to them, not even heeding the rest of the fight and extended his charms around them; there was too much of a risk they would get hit by a stray spell from either side. When he was content they were protected, he turned and stood his ground.

" _Acwellan_!" he shouted, his eyes burning golden as he took down two men straight after each other. He turned his magic on the others, but they had created powerful shields, which resisted the spells of the villagers.

He was about to raise his wand to end the fight once and for all, but some awful, wrenching feeling entered his heart, a great foreboding. He twisted around to try and find the source of this new threat, and to his absolute horror, saw Helena standing by the side of the fight, terrified eyes mesmerised by the action before her.

There were around ten fighting sorcerers between him and her …  _he had to get to her_.

But a sorcerer had seen her. His eyes glinting with malice, he raised his wand towards her. She was too afraid to move.

" _Fordīlgian!_ " Merlin screamed, letting his Old Religion magic spill form him freely in this moment of genuine unreserved fear. It struck the man down dead, but his spell had already been released.

There was no time to cast a Shield Charm around her now …

However, there was no need. Before Merlin could so much as cry out in horror, a blurred shape had ran forwards and into the path of the spell, pushing Helena out of the way, sending her crashing into the ground.

There was a moment of confusion, before Merlin recognised the bright red hair of Tomin …

_No …_

" _Stupefy_!" he cried, extending his spell as wide as he could make it, but his was not the only voice that had yelled.

Godric Gryffindor's booming voice had joined the fight and together, their magic joined forces in some primal Old Religion magic and sent all of the sorcerers to the ground. Merlin didn't wait to see if they were dead or alive, he was already racing across the carnage to Helena and Tomin.

Helena was white and shaking and Merlin seized her and checked all over.

"Are you alright?" he asked desperately, searching her for an injury. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head and began crying and fell into his arms, trembling all over. "I'm sorry!" she wailed, her face pressed into his chest. "I wanted to help! I didn't want you to be alone."

"It's alright," he said, hugging her close. "I'm alright, and so are you. Everything will be fine."

He gently pried her away from him then and moved over to where Tomin lay on the ground, surrounded by a few villagers and Godric.

"Is he-"

"He's alive," said Godric, who was crouched beside him. "But unconscious."

"But that spell should have killed him!" one of the other students said. "Surely-"

"He used a Shield Charm," said Godric, as Merlin began to examine him. "It repelled the worst of the spell."

"A Shield Charm?" Merlin asked disbelievingly. "He's only a first year! Where did he learn that?"

"Well," said Godric . "My Dueling lessons-"

"Godric!" complained Merlin. "You were supposed to be limiting each year group to an appropriate level!"

"He's alive isn't he?" Godric said. "I say thank goodness I  _did_ teach him it!"

Merlin didn't answer as he looked the boy all over. He was fine, not even a mark on him, just Stunned. He breathed a sigh of relief. He took out his wand once more, and touched the tip to Tomin.

" _Enervate_ ," he said.

Tomin's eyes flickered a little and he groaned. He opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. He sat up a little, but Merlin pushed him back.

"Sit still," he said gently. "That was some shock to your body."

Tomin looked embarrassed. "It was nothing …" he mumbled.

"Nothing!" exclaimed Godric. "Why, I have never seen such bravery! You saved young Miss Ravenclaw's life!"

At this, Merlin cast another glance back at Helena, who was still looking pale. He cursed himself; why had he been so careless? She could have died!"

At that moment, Hilda came running up and pulled Tomin into her arms, shrieking hysterically.

The villagers took this as a sign to depart, and began to tie up the wizards lying on the street. A couple were dead. Godric spoke to them.

"Lock them up somewhere until they regain consciousness. They are to be exiled from this village, and I want the pleasure of telling them myself when they awaken."

The villagers began escorting the wizards away levitating them above the ground, or simply dragging them, whilst a pale looking Hilda and Elred took Tomin back to their home.

Merlin made to follow them with Godric and Helena, but the girl seemed frozen to the spot, still shaking with fear. She tried to walk, but ended up stumbling. She looked close to tears.

"Come here" said Merlin fondly, and he lifted her up and carried her back to Elred and Hilda's. She clung to him the whole way, her face hidden, sobbing silently.

"Rowena is going to kill me," said Merlin, walking with Godric. "She said last night that something bad was going to happen, and here it has, and her daughter is traumatised."

"Last night?" Godric asked. "So the rumours are true then?"

Merlin almost dropped Helena in surprise. "What?"

"Don't play the fool," said Godric, almost sternly. "I am no idiot, despite what Salazar may say. Rowena doesn't just trust  _anyone_  with Helena. I think I know what is going on."

"Is this really the time?" Merlin asked uncomfortably, looking pointedly at Helena. Godric nodded.

"No, I suppose you're right."

They entered into the small shop and went through to the back room, where Tomin was resting on his bed, Hilda trying to get him to drink something. He kept pushing it away.

Merlin deposited Helena on another bed, where she curled up, shaking, as Godric sat beside her. He moved over to Tomin and checked him over once more.

"It's alright, I'm fine, Emrys," Tomin mumbled.

"Tomin" said Hilda sternly. "He is a physician. He shall be the one to determine that."

"He is fine," Merlin said. "Just shaken." He took a sniff of the liquid Hilda had been trying to force him to drink. "Good, dreylin leaf. Drink this Tomin, it will help your strength return."

Tomin didn't want to, but under the stern looks of Merlin and his foster-mother, he succumbed. Merlin did not stop staring at him until he had drunk every last drop.

"Good," he said. "Now, tell me, what the hell were you thinking? You could have been killed!"

Tomin hung his head guiltily.

"Tomin!" said Merlin. "Those men were incredibly powerful and dangerous, why on earth did you rush into a fight like that?"

"I had to help her!" Tomin protested, pointing to Helena, who was now cuddled into Godric like he was some large doll. "She was going to get hurt. I had to protect her!"

Merlin nodded, accepting this situation. He felt a creeping sense of guilt that this eleven year old boy with next to no magical experience had managed to protect the child where he had not.

"You could have been killed, Tomin," said Hilda, her face creased in worry.

"I didn't think of that," Tomin said, his voice unusually emotional. "I had to get to her. I couldn't let her die, not the way I did my sister."

He crumpled, and fat tears leaked from his eyes and fell to the bedsheets. Merlin's heart grew heavy, as he realised Tomin was finally opening up to them about his past.

"She was the same age as Miss Ravenclaw," Tomin said, his face wet with tears. "And she was a Muggle, she couldn't do anything. My whole family were Muggles, but everyone thought they were sorcerers. It was because of me," he cried. "They thought that I was evil, and that my family were either sorcerers as well, or they were evil because they protected me. They carried us all off in the night. They couldn't do anything, they were  _Muggles._  They tried to hurt me, but they couldn't. I don't know what happened. But when they tried to tie me to the stake I … I don't know, I just appeared somewhere else. I didn't mean to … I just … did."

"You Apparated," Merlin said, amazed. "By accident, you Apparated."

Tomin was still crying, shaking with unrepressed tremors. "I went back to the village," he all but whispered. "But by the time I got back … it was too late."

Hilda began crying herself and sat on the bed next to him, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Oh, you poor boy," she cried. "You poor, brave boy."

Tomin was still shaking. "I heard some wizards talking in a tavern about the school," he said. "And I knew I had to come up here. I wanted to be art of something,  _anything_  that would stop things like that happening again. I know Muggles aren't evil because my family weren't. And if they weren't, then not all Muggles can be scum like those men were saying. And that's worth something isn't it?"

"Yes," Merlin said. "It is."

He stood back and let Hilda smother the boy, he clinging to her like a lost child. He turned and looked out the window and back up the street where the villagers were cleaning up.

Tomin put Merlin to shame. Too often, Merlin thought 'What's the point? There's no use in fighting anything anymore. The world will never be as it was.'

But here was Tomin, proving beyond doubt that it was possible to move beyond prejudice, beyond hate.

As long as there were people like him, life would go on, and it would always be worth living.

That was something that Merlin all too often forgot.

* * *

 

"I've had all of them run out of the village," Godric was saying later that night at a meeting of the Founders and teachers. "They won't be troubling us again."

"Good," said Headmaster Whitethorn "But I fear that this is not over. The Governors shall wish an inquiry. Especially since Lord Prelin seemed to be ingratiated to the Wizards' Council."

"I'll deal with them," said Salazar, his eyes glinting in anticipation.

"Really?" asked Merlin. "I thought you did not like to defend Muggle-Borns?"

"I do not object to Muggle-Borns," Salazar said, "but their Muggle families who may influence them. These children were innocent and completely cut off from any Muggles in their families. They should not have been attacked. On the contrary, they should be praised for trying to better themselves."

Salazar saw Merlin was not convinced. "I only object to Muggles," Salazar said. "Muggles have the natural propensity to turn against that which they do not understand. They can never fully be trusted. They can turn against you quick as a flash, despite them claiming that they welcome magic."

"That way of thinking is flawed, Salazar," said Merlin. "Just like those wizards. Tomin is proud of his Muggle family, do you object to him?"

"We must agree to disagree, Emrys," Salazar said. "I shall never be a friend to Muggles. You cannot convince me of that."

"Regardless,' said Helga, interrupting. "The boy is a hero and should be commended. Where is he?"

"He's at home," said Merlin. "He's spending the night there. He'll be back tomorrow for the Ceremony."

"Indeed," said Godric, looking thoughtful. "Well, I suppose if that's all?"

The meeting was dismissed, and Merlin immediately bolted out the door and up the many staircases to Rowena's quarters, knocking on the door impatiently. He waited as she took her time to answer the door. When she did, there was a scowl on her face.

"You," she said, glaring.

"I want to see if she's alright," Merlin said desperately. "Please."

Rowena continued glaring at him for a moment, before stepping back and letting him in. He immediately crossed the room and straight into Helena's chambers. As usual, Scáthach glared at him as he entered, but a nod from Rowena dismissed her, and she left grumbling to herself.

Merlin bent over Helena who was lying asleep on the bed. She looked pale, and her face twitched in her sleep. He laid a palm over her brow.

" _Swēte gesihþ mǣdencild."_

A golden glow surrounded her. Helena frowned a little and turned her head, her face clear of emotion and sighed softly.

"What did you do?" Rowena asked him.

"Rid her of dreams," Merlin said, tuning to her. "She should not have to relive today in her sleep."

"You think it will help?" Rowena asked furiously as he made his way back into the main living quarters. "She could have  _died_  today, Emrys!"

"I know," he said, hanging his head. "And … it's the most afraid I've been in a long time."

He paced the room, feeling more agitated than he thought he would. She watched him expressionlessly.

"I was terrified," he said to her. "I never thought … I fear how attached I have grown to her."

"Why?" Rowena asked, stepping closer, frowning. Together they sat down on a couch before the fire. He hung his head in his hands.

"Because it reminds me that one day I must leave," he said, sighing heavily and letting all his worries of the day seep out. "I never grow too attached to people, it only makes it too painful. She grows too attached to me. I fear that when I leave, she will … she will not understand."

"I shall not either," Rowena said, watching him with a hard expression. "You always talk of leaving, yet I am still to understand why it is necessary. You speak as though … as though moving on is something that happens a lot to you. As if you are used to departing and never seeing people again."

Merlin did not answer, and Rowena forced him to look at her.

"What makes you think that I shall understand when the time comes?" she asked in a quiet voice, her eyes unusually emotional. "Why do you not fear me growing too attached?"

"Because … because …" he began, lost for words. "Helena is a child …"

"And so you cannot hurt her but you can hurt me?"

"No!" he said, and sighed again. He forced himself to look at her. "She cannot understand …"

"Neither do I,' said Rowena. "And I have accepted that. And accepting things that I cannot understand does not come easily to me. Helena will accept it when the time comes, however difficult it is."

Merlin nodded, but his heart was still heavy. He should not be here, he should not be sitting with Rowena like this; it was only making a bad situation worse.

"But it will not be for a while shall it?" Rowena asked him, a curiously desperate note to her voice.

"No," Merlin said softly, raising a hand to push back some loose stands of hair from her face. "Not for a few years yet."

She nodded, and leaned forward and kissed him. He kissed her back surrendering himself to this guilty pleasure, forgetting all the rumours, damaged reputations and other arguments.

He broke away from her finally, and smiled, holding her face in his hands. "I am sorry," he said, sincerely.

"Helena is alive, that is all that matters," she said back to him.

"No," he said, gently running his fingers along her soft skin. "For not listening to you last night. You were right, something bad  _was_ going to happen. I should have trusted your instincts; I was arrogant to think that I was the only one able to sense when something was wrong. You knew your daughter would be in danger and I did not listen."

"A mother's instinct is always the strongest," she smiled back at him. "I do not blame you. But perhaps now you will concede that although weaker than you, my own Old Magic is not to be trifled with."

He laughed. "I never doubted it."

"Good," she said fiercely. "Because if you forget it one more time and my daughter is placed in any kind of danger ever again I will-"

He cut off the rest of her words with a kiss.

* * *

 

The Sorting Ceremony the following evening proved to be just as glamourous and exciting as the Opening Feast. It was Hallowe'en, a modern twist on the Samhain festival Merlin had often celebrated in his youth. There was a magnificent feast, and since tonight was the night that the spirit world was said to cross over into the world of the living, many students carried out their own traditions from their own villages. Some carried lanterns with faces carved out of turnips to scare away evil, some disguised themselves with masks to hide their faces from evil spirits, and all around people were toasting to their dead relatives, or relating ghost stories to each other.

The atmosphere was infectious, as everyone grinned and laughed loudly. The Feast however was not on most people's minds, as magnificent as it was. Everyone's eyes were flicking up to the top table, waiting impatiently for the Founders to begin the Ceremony. However, the Founders took their time, enjoying their meals and not looking in the least concerned about the eyes that were constantly on them. Helena was giggling as Ceran the Druid showed her some Divination card tricks, all the horrors of the previous day forgotten. She was wearing her new dress, and could not help but admire herself at every opportunity.

Merlin's eyes swept the hall, noting all the frustrated expressions on the faces before him. Perhaps next year they would have the Sorting  _before_  the feast; it may be the only way to satiate their true appetites.

Eventually, Headmaster Whitethorn stood up and surveyed the crowd before him. Immediately, a deathly silence fell. He spread out his arms.

"Boys and girls, we have now reached the moment of the Sorting," he announced, eager eyes on him. He waved his wand and the remains of the feast disappeared and the tables were swept up and deposited at the side of the hall, students scrambling out of their benches just in time. They huddled in their groups. "Now," he said. "As you know, we shall be attending the bonfire in the village as part of our celebration this evening. Once you have been claimed by a Founder, you shall follow that Founder on the way to the village and stay with your House, do not mix yourselves up. After the bonfire, that Founder shall lead you to your new dormitories, where your possessions shall already be waiting for you. Now, I shall hand you over."

Godric stood and he and the Founders moved to the other side of the table and stood facing the students, sizeable gaps between them.

Godric grinned. "Now, we shall claim the students we feel best suited for our House. When Sorted, you shall come and stand with us."

There was a moment of expectant silence. Godric relished it, and seemed to enjoy keeping them in suspense.

"I value the qualities of bravery, courage and chivalry," said Godric, his booming voice echoing through the silent hall. "And all who I shall claim shall embody those qualities and vow to uphold the honour of my House. To that end … the first student I shall claim is one who has proved himself fearless in confronting danger and assisting his elders with a runaway Hippogriff. I shall claim … Gareth!"

Gareth, a sixteen year old boy from a poor family stepped forward to huge cheers and applause; everyone knew how brave he had been in attempting to capture the Hippogriff. He blushed furiously, but looked pleased as he stood beside Godric.

"I value the qualities of intelligence, wit, and creativity," said Rowena, the hall becoming silent once more. "And like Lord Godric, I shall expect every student in my House to pursue those qualities and never cease in the pursuit of knowledge. The first student I shall claim is one who has proven herself in class, going above and beyond the calls of her teachers to improve her mind. I shall claim … Beryl."

The girl, Beryl, stepped forwards embarrassed, but happy. Merlin recognised her as one of the Muggle-born girls from the village. He could tell she was thrilled to be chosen for a House of intelligence; barely a few months ago and she could not even read her own name.

"I value the qualities of cunning, ambition and resourcefulness," said Salazar, looking around at the students with the air of cool indifference. "My students should never relent in their quest for perfection and status. The first student I claim is one who has demonstrated a natural ability to employ his cunning and his mind for the betterment of himself and others. I shall claim … Ryan Green."

Ryan stepped forwards to more applause. Unlike the others, he did not look embarrassed, just pleased, a small smile on his lips.

"I value the qualities of hard work, determination, loyalty and kindness," said Helga, smiling at each individual student. "My students have only to promise to always remain true to themselves, and never allow themselves to be corrupted by evil. The first student I shall claim is a girl who has demonstrated her good heart and a willingness to help others that I find admirable. I shall claim … Mara."

Mara, the younger sister of the Gryffindor Gareth stepped forwards to polite applause. She cast a worried glance to her brother, as though afraid to be alone, but Helga's welcoming smile eased the tension on her face. She looked relieved. Although almost all the students thought Hufflepuff was a rather silly House, Merlin could tell many of them were happy to be placed here instead of a House renowned for great deeds.

The Sorting continued for a great deal of time, students impatiently standing on their toes and pushing to the front to be seen and Sorted quicker. But the Founders took their time, claiming one student at a time, and giving each individual child their reasons for claiming them in a way Merlin thought was exceptionally generous, even though it extremely embarrassed each and every child.

Palagius Abbot, the boy whose father was on the Wizards' Council was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and looked exceptionally happy about it. Hermes Lestrange, a boy who although from a prominent Pure-Blooded family had looked after all others in his dormitory regardless of background and fought to protect them was made a Gryffindor, and small, mousy girl called Sifa who had apparently already memorised the recipes for several different potions and made them perfectly despite only being eleven years old was made a Ravenclaw. Augustus, the boy who Merlin had had problems with was made a Slytherin, though to be honest, Merlin had observed no cunning or ambition in the boy; only a cruel tongue.

Eventually, there were only a few children left to be Sorted. They stood in a line facing the Founders and the Sorted students shifted nervously, some looking worried and almost upset at being left to last. One of them was Tomin, recently arrived from the village, recovered from his ordeal. He kept glancing at Rowena, perhaps expecting her to claim him. After all, he read a lot, and he had saved her daughter the previous day. But Merlin was not so sure. Rowena was remaining silent, and Merlin could see no sign that she intended to claim another student.

Helga claimed two more, leaving four children standing there nervously. Salazar took three of those, and Tomin was left on his own. Now everyone in the hall was staring at him, and he was embarrassed, staring straight down at his feet.

"Now," began Godric, looking down at the boy, we come to the last student of the evening. Tomin."

"We thought long and hard about you, Tomin," said Helga kindly. "You have a good and kind heart."

"And you're ambitious," said Salazar. "You have come a long way in a short time."

"You're incredibly intelligent," said Rowena, looking at him much softer than she had any of the others. "You have great potential in academia. Only yesterday I had determined that I would accept you into my House."

"But," said Godric, drawing Tomin's attention back to him. "We feel that your intelligence, though admirable, is not what defines you."

He beamed down at Tomin, who was standing there bewildered. The gathered students were watching in a gathered hush.

"You have shown incredible courage," Helga said to him. "To overcome adversity in your life and travel so far from home in search of knowledge."

"You defended other students from verbal attacks," said Godric, "and you looked after them and others by speaking up against injustice when you found it."

Muggle Studies teacher Olwyn was beaming at him now also.

"Not to mention," said Rowena, "yesterday in the village. You risked your own life to defend an innocent. You almost died protecting my daughter from a great evil, and you have demonstrated your bravery every day of your life in overcoming your fears."

"And for that purpose," said Godric, grinning openly now. "We have decided that there is only one possible House for you, Tomin. I claim you as one of my own. You are hereby Sorted into Gryffindor, the home of the brave at heart."

Tomin gaped at him, not quite believing, as the Hall erupted in cheers and tumultuous applause. Everyone had heard of Tomin's actions in the village the previous day. They all praised him and congratulated him. Even Augustus looked grudgingly impressed, though he avoided looking at Tomin as much as possible.

Almost immediately, the Founders led each of their new Houses out of the castle and down to the shores of the lake where the villagers were gathered and had piled up a huge bonfire to celebrate the passing of summer and beginning of winter by burning the remains of the previous year, a custom still practiced from Merlin's day. The students cheered as they watched the bonfire and cried out the names of their new Houses with pride and joy.

Merlin kept his eyes on Tomin the entire time however. He watched the flames, which were burning a rainbow of different colours and dancing in the breeze, magically contorted into the shapes of birds and beasts, so unlike the angry fires of Muggle pyres. His face was aglow with the light of the flames, and he was grinning widely, his eyes shining with happiness as his foster parents stood by him.

He smiled to himself as he watched. Tomin, the boy who had been so afraid, who had been so timid as to never speak a word to Merlin and others when it could be prevented had been sorted into the house that valued bravery. Merlin could not be prouder nor more happy for this young boy who had suffered so much, yet still had come through his trials determined to help others. He deserved this.

They all did, Merlin thought, looking around at all the celebrating students. Now, more than ever he was happy this school had ben founded. It gave chances to so many, who otherwise would have been left to fend for themselves. It offered new life, it offered a chance for children to discover their true potential.

Now, on this night, he no longer resented the Old Religion for bringing him here on false hope. This school was worth all the trials that he would be forced to endure.

He had no doubt that this school would last, be eternal in the way that Camelot was not.

Whatever state the world outside was in, Hogwarts was here to stay.


	30. An Incident in the Forest

The students proved remarkably able to fit in with their new Houses. Each Founder had had special dormitories prepared close to their own quarters for the students, fitted out according to their own personal tastes. The original dormitories would remain empty until next year when the next lot of students would arrive and live there for the two months until their own Sorting.

Students strutted around feeling like the luckiest children in the world, each convinced their own House was the best. Ravenclaws teased the Hufflepuffs, and fights broke out between the Gryffindors and Slytherins; much like the relationships between the Founders themselves.

"Sometimes I am not so certain that Sorting them was such a good idea," Helga said to him one morning at breakfast, looking down at the students who now sat at designated House tables. "I am afraid it will create a sense of strife between them."

"I disagree," said Rowena. "We will always encourage the students to work together, and it will only emphasise to the outside world that Hogwarts functions from a  _combination_  of all these elements. It is much better than teaching only certain students. This way everyone is integrated."

"How did this House system come about anyway?" Merlin asked in curiosity. "Was it inspired by the noble Houses?"

"Partly," said Godric. "We wanted to create a sense of family for all the children. And it was partly a compromise. We could not agree on which students we should teach. So the House system was devised so that we could each take the students we wanted."

"You disagreed? On what?"

"Well," said Helga, looking thoroughly disapproving. "At the beginning, not all of us wanted to teach  _every_  child.  _Some_ of us were picky. Godric wanted only those who had proven themselves with deeds of great valour."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Great valour? Some are only eleven!"

"Exactly my point," said Helga, before Godric could say anything. "Rowena on the other hand wanted to teach only those who had intelligence."

"We were far more likely to be successful if-" began Rowena, but Helga cut across her.

"Intelligence is not measured by how many books a child has read, Rowena. Every child needed a  _chance_  to demonstrate their ability. Salazar was different however; he wanted to teach only those who had wizarding backgrounds."

"I do not regret it," said Salazar, watching the students at his own table. "But I am not so harsh, Helga. Muggle-Borns and Half-Bloods are welcome in my House, so long as they renounce their Muggle backgrounds. I will not risk any of them betraying the school."

"And how exactly would they do that?" Helga asked in annoyance. "Muggles cannot see the school!"

"They could betray their fellow students when outside of the school," answered Salazar swiftly. "I have seen it done. Muggle-Born children are convinced by their Muggle relations that they are possessed by a demon, and that the only way to rid themselves of evil is to betray their fellow wizards. They are taken advantage of quite easily because they do not know that there is an entire community of people like them out there. They cannot be trusted."

"Surely then the thing to do is to get to them before this happens and teach them the truth?"

"And how many would believe it?" Salazar answered. "They have been raised to believe they are evil, their relatives would see only the devil. They would not be able to be persuaded. No, Helga, you will not convince me of this. I compromised; Muggle-Borns can come to this school, but not into my House unless they have affiliated themselves with our world only."

"You are harsh," said Merlin quietly. Oddly, he was not angry with Salazar; how could he be after how much he had suffered at the hands of Muggles just one year ago? But he was saddened, and very deeply. "Students cannot help their backgrounds. I was certainly never ashamed of  _my_ Muggle mother."

Salazar cast him a sharp glance. "Your mother must have been one in a million," he answered, his voice expressionless. "I am afraid the vast majority of Muggles would not act in the same way. It is cruel, yes, I shall be the first to admit that, but we have to accept it. This is the way the world is."

"I thought you were trying to change the world?" Merlin said. "To end hatred?"

"I am," answered Salazar. "But I am realistic. Hopefully, one day, Muggles and wizardkind shall find peace, and on that occasion, I shall welcome all manner of Muggle-Borns willingly into my House. But we have only just set out on that path. That day will not come this century, or even the next. But Hogwarts shall be here when it does. The world cannot be changed in just a few generations. Hopefully, our message will spread, and there shall be an end to hatred. But we have to wait for that message to sink in, and in the meantime I shall not risk the students in my House."

"But is it wise to do this," Merlin asked. "Why not begin as you mean to go on? Accepting all students regardless of background would demonstrate that. You may find your House attracting a reputation that you could come to regret."

Salazar was silent a moment. "The world is not ideal," he answered. "I can ill afford to make sweeping statements like that. Student safety is my priority, and in my view, I cannot adequately protect them whilst the world is in the chaos it is now. If Camelot has taught us anything, it is that peace does not always last."

 _Yes,_  thought Merlin sadly, looking down at his plate,  _no one knows that as well as I._

The rest of breakfast passed in silence, with none of the Founders saying anything else. Merlin had lost his appetite however. Salazar was still so prejudiced … could he ever get through to him? Still, at least, unlike many others of his generation, Salazar was willing to look forwards. Others hated Muggles because they deemed them inferior for no particular purpose; Salazar's reasoning was at least based on some form of reason. Maybe he was right. The school would hopefully see many, many generations of students, perhaps that view would someday change. In any case, Merlin would be around to see it if Kilgharrah was any judge. However long it took.

Since it was a weekend, Merlin spent the day with the Founders, continuing with their training in Old Magic. They had settled into quite a good routine after the first few hectic weeks and now found time to practice with him when they had not before, but they progressed much more slowly than before.

With the exception of Rowena of course. Sunday evening came and Merlin was in his usual lesson with her and was frankly astounded at how well she seemed to pick everything up.

"How do you do this so well?" he asked her, frowning as she performed a perfect Banishing spell. "It took  _me_ longer to learn this spell!"

She just smirked. "I apply myself."

"So did I!" he complained, and started flipping through a spell book. "It must be because you're only doing a sort of fusion spell instead of the real one. It has only half the power of the ones I used."

"If that's what you want to believe," she grinned and slipped into a chair next to him and leaned closer, peering over his shoulder, her dark hair falling in front of her face and tickling his cheek. He smiled, though puzzled by her uncharacteristic display of familiarity; after all, they were in the school library, and several students were working just around the corner.

"Test me," she said challengingly, passing him a book of Ancient Runes.

He took it and flipped through it, looking for a particular passage. "Here," he said passing it to her. "Who does this passage refer to?"

She looked at it, concentrating intensely, the characteristic frown above her brow that Merlin had come to associate with her thinking intensely. Then, she smiled triumphantly.

"Hypatia," she said smugly.

"And who was she?" Merlin asked.

"I do not need to read the passage to discover that. She was an Alexandrian mathematician and philosopher," Rowena said immediately, unable to resist showing off her knowledge.

"And a teacher," said Merlin. "Read this."

Again, Rowena frowned as she translated. " _Hypatia was known for teaching the works of Aristotle and Plato to everyone regardless of where they came from or whether they were Christian or pagan._ " She paused a moment. "I did not know that," she admitted.

"Oh?" said Merlin.

"Why did you have me read this?"

"Because I think you and she are very much alike," he answered. "You both are scholars, and seek to pass on your knowledge to whoever desires it."

She arched one eyebrow. "If I remember correctly, Hypatia was murdered by a mob of angry Christians. Is that how you would have me end my days?"

He laughed softly. "Perhaps not. But what you are doing here is the first step on the path to ending such awful attacks. I am sure she would approve of what you are doing here. This school may serve to help put a stop to such displays of ignorance and hatred."

Rowena smiled, and traced her fingers over the pages, frowning as she read.

"Hypatia had one advantage however," she said.

"Oh?"

"The great library of Alexandria," Rowena sighed, almost longingly. "How I wish I could have seen it. My own library is not as full as I would wish. Most of the shelves remain empty."

"It will not always be thus," he assured her, placing his hand over hers. "Great libraries take years to accumulate their treasures. Generations will add to this library and increase its store of knowledge. That is the beauty of libraries; they are always growing. Have patience."

"I cannot," she said, sighing. "I long for more books for this room. How can we educate our students with so few?"

"Write your own," Merlin suggested. "Share your knowledge with the world permanently."

To his surprise, she looked down. "I am not so sure," she said. "I fear I could not."

"Why not?" Merlin asked. "You are always so desperate to share your knowledge with others and win great renown. I thought you would love a chance like this."

"Normally, yes it would," she answered. "But … I fear I am not yet wise enough. I fear that I am not as intelligent as I arrogantly sometimes believe myself to be. As you are always reminding me, wisdom does not come from knowledge. I fear I am not suited to writing great works of intellect."

Merlin could not help it, he laughed. He laughed long and hard, all the while Rowena glared at him. "And what is it that amused you so?"

"You are not confident enough to write your own? You doubt your own intelligence?" Merlin asked. "Rowena, you are the smartest woman I have ever met! And you always take great care to remind the rest of us of that fact! Why the sudden humility?"

She frowned. "It is something I have increasingly come to realise since the school opened. I was always so desperate for the school to open and show off my intellect, but when the moment came … I did not feel I was ready. I am still yet young. The expectations of me are great indeed."

"And you will fulfill them" Merlin said, no longer laughing. "You place too much pressure on yourself, Rowena. From experience, from learning comes wisdom. Write those books, and you will be wiser as a result. They may not be perfect, which is what I think troubles you, but you will learn from them. Do not be afraid to learn and grow like your students; learning never ceases so long as we live. Write your books and fill these shelves. Future generations shall read them and thank you for it. And they shall remember you as you deserve to be remembered; as the brightest witch of your age."

She smiled gratefully, and he grinned back. Checking quickly with his mind to ensure that the students nearby were still absorbed in their work, he leaned in quickly and kissed her. She pulled back after a moment, though still remaining close to him, a look of mock scandal on her face, while her eyes glinted with a teasing look.

"Emrys, you do realise that there are students-"

"I do," he grinned. "But I can assure you, they get up to far worse when  _we're_  not looking. It is nothing they will not have seen before."

And before she could protest, he kissed her again, this time lingering for longer. She pulled back again and smiled.

"Don't you think this is inappropriate?"

"Yes, I do," he said, and kissed her once more.

She fell back and sighed, placing her head on his shoulder. She giggled.

"Now I  _know_  you're in a good mood this evening," he said softly.

"And what makes you say that?" she asked, taking his hand in hers and tracing her fingers over this palm, leaving the flesh she touched tingling.

"You  _never_  giggle."

She laughed again. "I do, very often."

"Only with Helena, and not nearly often enough.

She was silent for a moment. "There was a time when I was always laughing."

"With your mother?"

"Yes," she said sadly. "I was always laughing with her. I never laughed after she died. I dedicated myself to my studies to honour her, and grew distant. My father kept me in the castle, for my own safety he said, but I was confined, and the only freedom I found was in my books, or on my rides across the hills. Even with … with Ruairidh, I was trapped. I was expected to be a good wife and to give up my girlish fantasies. He never made me laugh. Not like you can."

"Well then, I am lucky," he said. "For you are an entirely different person when you laugh. And it pleases me to see her."

"Not many people do," said Rowena.

"No, there are many who would say that laughing is too undignified for someone like you," he teased.

"I am not always so dignified," she answered, and she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it, making his heart leap like he was some love-struck youth instead of the old man he was.

"I like you when you are not," he said gently, squeezing her hand. "You are far more agreeable."

"Am I?"

"Of course," he said. "I am glad your House symbol is an eagle. It symbolises the freedom you were so often denied. You must remember this, to be always so reserved will not serve you."

"I have never interacted well with strangers," she said. "I have spent my life so isolated that I find it difficult to be with others."

"You can with me."

"You are one of the few I can be myself with," she said, looking up at him. "You remind me of who I was, and still am underneath it all."

"I am glad of it," he said, kissing her forehead, which was still resting on her shoulder. "I only wish others could see what I see in you. Who you are did not deserve to be hidden away for as long as it has been."

"I fear it will be a long time before I could ever be as easy with others as with you," she said. "I cannot foresee such a day."

"I can," Merlin said. "Before I came here, I could not have foreseen a time where I could find even the smallest degree of happiness. But I have found it here. With you I can forget the horrors of my past and the burdens of my future. These moments are precious to me."

"As to me," she said, reaching up and tracing his face with her fingers. "You tell us that one day you must leave, and every day I wonder why, and who you truly are. But I find that when I am with you, despite my determination to solve the riddle that is you, I find that I can forget it all, and not care for the future, or for the past you try to hide. All I can think of is now, and what we can share. We should seize such chances, however brief they may be."

"So we should," he murmured, and leaned down to kiss her again, gentler but with more passion than before. All thoughts of the nearby students drained from his mind as he took the comfort that she offered him, and the delight of holding her, kissing her and being close to her. This was their moment, and he was glad to take all the pleasure he could from it while it lasted.

Which wasn't for long.

Suddenly, a great weakness and pain overcame him and he fell back with a cry, clutching at his heart which was suddenly filled with dread, a cold feeling of foreboding creeping all over him. His heart raced, and it was nothing to do with Rowena.

"Emrys?" she asked, a touch of alarm in her voice. "What is wrong?"

He didn't answer her, clutching his heart and breathing heavily, shaking from head to toe.

"Something is wrong," he said finally, trying to sense with his mind what had happened. "Something bad has happened."

"Is it to do with the Old Religion?" she asked urgently.

"Yes," he answered, "no … yes … I'm not sure. I can't …"

He screwed up his face and cast out with his mind, desperate to try and understand all these confusing thoughts and feelings. Something was happening. Something bad.

"Is it the village of the Hog's Mead?" she asked. "A student? But if it's the Old Religion … is it one of us?"

He opened his eyes, dread clutching at him. "That's it … one of you." He was silent for another moment, letting the realisation wash over him. "It's Godric ," he said, with a new found sense of horror. "There is something wrong. He's in danger somehow."

"Where?" Rowena asked, springing to her feet, her wand at the ready. "Where is he?"

He stood up also and tried to calm his racing thoughts. "He's … he's …" he stiffened. "The Forbidden Forest."

Without another word, Rowena had swept out of the room, Merlin following quickly, the two of them almost running down the marble staircase and tearing out into the grounds. The night was deceptively calm, twinkling lights emerging in the sky, and a light frost touching the grass they were running down, almost sliding down the slope. The dark trees were ahead, and Merlin ran straight into them, Rowena following fearlessly.

Merlin ran for a few moments, and cast out with his magical senses.  _Godric … where are you?_

But he could no longer sense him. The forest was huge … they would never find him like this ….

He stood, stumped for a moment, the panic building up inside.

Unbidden, awful memories came rising to the surface of his mind. The time when Arthur was dying and Merlin could do nothing to save him. Of when Freya had died in his arms. He felt as helpless as he had then. Was he about to watch another friend die?

"This way!" Rowena shouted, pointing through the trees.

"How do you know?" Merlin asked.

"I'm not sure, trust me!" she begged and ran off in the direction she had pointed to.

He paused for a moment; how could she sense where Godric was when he could not? But then he remembered how she had known about the attack in the village when Merlin had sensed nothing. Her daughter had been involved in that, and now one of her closest friends and fellow Founders was in danger. That was how she knew; their destinies were one and the same.

He had to trust her. After what felt like hours of deliberation, but had been only seconds, Merlin ran after her, plunging blindly through the trees, following the flash of colour ahead of him. Her wand was lit, but Merlin did not draw his own; he would not allow himself to be so restricted in a situation like this.

The sense of foreboding and fear built up, but Merlin would not allow himself to despair. Godric was not about to die a meaningless death like Arthur had. He would not allow it.

"Godric!" screamed Rowena, and the two of them appeared on a rather bizarre scene.

Godric was lying on the ground, stirring feebly, his wand in his hand. Before him stood a huge brown bear, reared back on its hind legs and roaring his displeasure and bearing down on the wizard, who seemed unable to defend himself.

" _Hweorfan_!" yelled Rowena, and the bear was thrown backwards from Godric. However, it just roared louder and instead came charging towards her.

Ignited with a sudden fury, Merlin leapt in front of her. " _Sceacan_!" he yelled, and his eyes burned fiercely golden. The bear was thrown back even further, and instead of coming around for more, just whimpered and slunk off through the trees, defeated.

He watched it go for a moment, before turning and running towards Godric, where Rowena was already by his side. Her face was frantic.

Merlin threw himself to the ground beside Godric, who was white and clammy, and breathing weakly.

"What happened?" Rowena asked him, her eyes wide with worry.

"I was … was …" he said, slurring his words in fatigue. "Just some fun … got out of hand … my magic … so weak …"

He gave a great shuddering gasp and lay still. Rowena pressed her hands over her mouth, her eyes even wider.

"He's-he's not-"

"No," said Merlin, though his own heart had just skipped a beat. "He is alive."

She nodded, sighing in relief. "What has happened to him? His wounds are superficial. Surely they could not cause this?"

Merlin examined the claw marks on his arm. They were bleeding profusely, but Rowena was right; they did not look too deep.

"No, they could not," Merlin said, his heart still racing. He stood up and glanced around, alert for danger. "We need to get him to the castle. It is dangerous to keep him here. Other creatures may be attracted by the smell of the blood."

He turned back to Godric, and he cast a spell to levitate him, and he and Rowena escorted him back to the castle and towards the Hospital Wing. A house-elf squeaked in dismay when he saw what was going on, and hurried off in a flash, returning a few moments later with a worried looking Helga and Salazar.

Helga shrieked at the sight before her, but immediately launched into action. She and Merlin worked together quickly to clean his wounds and heal the great rends in his flesh. The entire time, Godric lay there unresponsive, pale and almost deathlike.

Helga stood back after finishing her work, watching his face with a worried expression. "Why is he like this?" she asked, her voice betraying her great anxiety. "Those wounds were not so bad."

"It was not the wounds that injured him," Merlin said, his heart heavy.

"Then what?" demanded Rowena.

"The magic," Merlin said, feeling depressed.

"What do you mean?"

"Godric has always been slightly arrogant," said Merlin. "He wanted to learn as many Old Magic dueling spells as possible. He must have gone out there to try and prove his ability. But he was not ready. I have told him so for many weeks. He fails to appreciate the true need of control, particularly in a combat situation."

"But what has happened?" Helga asked desperately.

"He tried to use a spell from the Old Religion, but it was too much for him," explained Merlin. "His body could not cope. He did not control the magic he was using and it overwhelmed him. His body has shut down to recover its energy. He would not listen to me …"

"But he will recover?" Salazar asked sharply.

"In time," said Merlin. "I can give him some potions and spells to help his strength return, but I cannot cure him outright. His body must heal on its own. I have seen it before in students learning the Old Magic. They go into a sort of coma, and often do not emerge for a great while as their bodies regenerate."

Rowena cast him a curious glance here, and Merlin could tell what she was thinking; he had never before mentioned teaching others Old Magic. But he wasn't about to explain it now.

"How long will he be comatose?" Helga asked, moving forwards and taking Godric's hand in hers, gazing at him so tenderly Merlin felt like he was intruding.

"I cannot say," said Merlin. "It may be a few days … it may be a few weeks. It all depends on how much damage the spell did to his system. It's a matter of waiting."

"But he will awaken?"

"With time, yes."

Salazar cursed. "This is just bloody typical of Godric! First he pokes a sleeping dragon, and now he baits a bear! The stupidity! The brainlessness! When he wakes up I'm going to kill him!"

Salazar looked down at the unconscious Godric. "He should not be so reckless with his own life, had he no thought for the school, or for any of us?"

"You sound like you care, Salazar," said Merlin. "I thought you liked to be at odds with him."

Salazar looked at him. "I may always fight with him, but he is my oldest friend. I have … grown accustomed to having him around. I may actually miss him if he gets himself killed one of these days."

"That's as close as Salazar can get to admitting he cares about him," said Helga, from a seat next to the bed, where she seemed to have taken up residence. "Is it not?"

Salazar did not answer her, and instead glanced at Godric, a look of worry in his eyes that Merlin had not seen from him before.

"If we can be assured Godric shall recover," Rowena said, "we should discuss what will happen to the school until he awakes. If it could take as long as Emrys says …"

"One of us will have to take his classes," said Salazar. "Selfish oaf, getting himself bedridden. It will be me I suppose; you and Helga already have two subjects each."

"I could do it," said Merlin, volunteering before he'd even realised he was. "I mean, until he has recovered. There is no sense in taking the rest of you away from your work. I am doing nothing anyway."

"Do you know much dueling?" Helga asked. "Do you think you could manage? You would have to take on the duties of Head of Gryffindor House as well."

"I can manage," Merlin assured her.

"Very well," said Salazar. "I am sure you will be a far better teacher anyway. Honestly, what sort of  _idiot_  deliberately attacks a bear? And for  _fun_? Perhaps this period of unconsciousness is actually a blessing. Now he can cease all his foolish activities before he loses any limbs. What an idiot. I had better go and inform the Headmaster and the rest of the staff."

And with that, he left the room. Helga turned back to Godric, still holding his hand.

"I shall stay with him tonight," she told the other two. "You should get some sleep, Emrys, you have lessons in the morning."

Merlin turned to leave, guiding Rowena by her elbow. She looked willing to remain and be with Godric, but Merlin could see Helga desired to be alone with him. The two of them, Merlin could tell, were in love, but both were simply still too stubborn to admit it.

Rowena was frowning to herself as they walked through the corridors and climbed back to the seventh floor. She looked shaken.

He placed an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him as they walked.

"He will be alright," he murmured. "Do not worry."

She laughed softly. "Ironic is it not? We were just discussing how I cannot easily interact with others and make friends. And then I almost lost one of the few I do have."

"He was in no danger," Merlin said to her. "You found him in time. I could not have done it. And he will recover, in no small part due to you."

She seemed to recover a little. "He will truly be alright?"

"Truly," Merlin assured her, and pulled her even closer. "I promise."

She nodded, and they walked in silence for a while longer. But Merlin was not so easily calmed. Still, the raging panic and painful memories had resurfaced. He could not relax, even with her here.

They reached the door to his quarters and he entered quickly, wishing her only a brief goodnight. He closed the door behind him and buried his head in his hands for a moment. He went over to his nightstand and poured himself some water and downed it, but still, he was shaken. He had to calm down.

Then came a knock at the door. Merlin did not even need to use his magical senses to know who was on the other side. Rowena stood there, frowning at him, and he tried to look casual, but failing miserably.

"You were just comforting me, and now it is time for me to return the favour," she said, immediately barging in.

"And what makes you think I need comforting," he asked, though he knew it as a fruitless battle.

She raised an eyebrow. "It has been several months now since you have wished me goodnight as formally as  _that_. Tell me what troubles you."

He sighed and laughed. "That would take a lifetime."

She moved across the room and perched herself on the end of his bed,watching him sternly. "I can stay here all night."

"I had rather wished you would," he said, but she did not look impressed at his feeble joke. Sighing again, he moved over and sat beside her, immediately feeling better just by her mere presence.

"Tell me," she said.

He laughed softly. "It is always you who confides in me."

"Exactly, now it is your turn," said Rowena. "You said Godric would be fine, and I believed you because you sounded so certain. Were you lying?"

"No, it was the truth."

"Then why are you so disturbed?"

He looked away from her and cast his eyes downwards. "I … I felt fear tonight, greater fear than I have experienced in a long time."

"Fear for Godric's life?"

"Yes," he said. "I feared I would not be able to save him. The Old Religion … it often instills in me great forebodings of impending danger. I have felt them before, and felt it again tonight. But usually … these forebodings accompany death. I felt it last when I arrived to find the massacre of Salazar's family."

She frowned, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "There is more."

He nodded. Pain was ignited in his chest as he thought of this evening. He thought about not telling her, but something seemed to give.

"I have lost friends before," he said. "And … it made me less likely to make more. I suppose I always fear growing too close to someone. I fear the pain of losing them. And tonight … Godric, and all of you are the first friends I have had in a long time. The fear I felt … was because I once lost a dear friend when I arrived too late to save him. I feared the same thing would happen again tonight."

"It did not," she said, placing a hand on his face. "We found him, and by your own admission, he will recover."

"I know," he said sadly; she would never be able to understand the pain he felt every time he thought of Arthur. "But still … memories are painful things. I was taken back to the last time a friend was in danger, and of how I failed him."

He hung his head, and tried to control himself.

"You told me only this evening that we should not heed our pasts or futures," she said to him. "We cannot do anything about what happened then."

"I know," he said. "But it was because of that man that I never grow close to people."

"You grew close to me," she said.

He smiled, and looked at her fondly. "You are an exception."

She smiled back, and the sight of that smile was enough to rid Merlin of all the voices in his head reminding him of the pain of losing Arthur and Freya.

"You did not let me get rid of that bear on my own," she said. "Did you doubt my abilities?"

"Not at all," he said. "I just … well, I wanted to protect you."

She raised an eyebrow. "False perceptions of chivalry? Perhaps being temporary Head of Gryffindor will suit you better than I realised."

He laughed, and pulled her to him tightly and without warning, causing them both to topple backward on to the bed. She laughed, and soon, she was underneath him, and he was looking down into her face, that beautiful intelligent face, unreserved and happy, such a change from the cold exterior she displayed to everyone else.

"I care about you," he said, before the rational part of his mind could stop him. "More than I should, probably. Perhaps it will only be more painful when I finally leave, but I find that I could not care less."

She looked up at him, her blue eyes perfectly serious. Slowly, she wrapped both her arms around his neck, and brought him closer down to her.

"Neither could I," she said, and pulled him to her, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss, and gone were Merlin's worries and fears. All that mattered was her, and all that was important was that she stayed here with him. He would go mad otherwise.

 


	31. An Inquisition

"How was your first week teaching?" Helga asked him at dinner.

"Stressful," Merlin admitted, "but oddly fulfilling. I think they were pleased to have me."

"Of course they were," said Salazar from further along the table. "Godric risks their lives every time they go to his class. With you they can at least manage to leave their lesson without being maimed."

"How is Godric?" Rowena asked Helga. She had barely left his side, only leaving for her lessons and meals, and hurrying straight back again.

"The same," said Helga sadly. "But from what Emrys says, this is only to be expected. Still, it does disturb me to see him so lifeless."

"It will pass," said Merlin. "I promise."

"It does not ease me however," admitted Helga. "You said this sleep could last for weeks … I am anxious for it to be over."

"Typical Godric, lying around being no help to anybody," said Salazar. "I hope you give him a good telling off when he awakens, Helga."

"I plan to," said Helga, her face set in such a fierce expression that Merlin thought Godric would probably be better off where he was. When he awoke he was in for a severe onslaught.

"I hope Uncle Godric gets better soon," said Helena, sitting on the other side of her mother. "I want to have my lessons with Emrys again!"

"You shall just have to wait, Helena," said Rowena. "I can continue your lessons whilst Emrys is busy."

Helena made a face, and Merlin had to bite down a laugh. Rowena was intelligent, she was wise, but as a teacher, she was formidable, even with her own daughter. He winked at her, and Helena sighed. Scáthach was as ever sitting beside her, and immediately tried to correct the child's posture and bearing, glaring at Merlin as though it was his fault she was acting unladylike.

At that moment, the post arrived, and dozens of owls streamed in through an open window across the enchanted ceiling which was illuminated with the rays of the rising sun, bringing letters and packages to the children of the families lucky enough to be able to afford an owl and be able to read. One regal looking owl swooped down towards the staff table and deposited a heavy letter before Headmaster Whitethorn. He took it and opened it, frowning as he read. He sighed and turned to the others.

"I have just had some news from London, from the Wizards' Council," he said.

"What news?" Salazar asked sharply.

Whitethorn glanced to the other teachers and the students nearby who looked interested. "Perhaps it is not best to discuss this here."

Salazar nodded his agreement and stood up with Whitethorn. Helga, Rowena and Merlin followed suit and began to follow him out of the hall and into an adjoining chamber. Whitethorn raised his eyebrows when he saw Merlin.

"The letter said to only disclose this information to the Founders-"

"Emrys shall stand in for Godric," Salazar said. "He has dealt with them before. He can be trusted."

Whitethorn hesitated for a moment and nodded. Merlin had still not warmed to the man; although demonstrating himself as a capable leader and manager of the school, Merlin was not overly friendly with the man, and nor was the man himself particularly inclined to friendship.

"What does the letter say?" Helga asked.

"The Wizards' Council is concerned about the recent events at the school," he began.

"The school has had a remarkable beginning," said Rowena immediately. "It is going along splendidly, what on earth have they to protest?"

"The incident in the village, and Lord Godric's  _accident_ ," he answered, a curious look in his eye; he and the other teachers and students were still eager to learn exactly what was wrong with Godric. "They question the safety of the school."

Helga sighed. "Of course they would."

"They have instructed the Board of Governors to meet at the castle and investigate," Whitethorn continued. "They should be arriving in the next few weeks."

"We shall be ready for them," said Rowena fiercely. "We shall fight to keep this school. Every new project has teething problems, but we shall not bow down."

Merlin felt a strange sense of pride at her vocal opposition. She was often so reserved, but when the school was concerned … she was incredibly passionate.

"The Governors shall rule in our favour," said Merlin. "Most of them are on our side, and since Elred is the adopted father of Tomin, how can they say they must interfere on his behalf?"

"Elred has no quarrel with the school?" Salazar asked him.

"Far from it," said Merlin. "He believes the school to be a blessing and would fight fiercely to keep it the way it is. If he does not blame us for Tomin's close encounter, none of the others would have reason to interfere."

"Tomin's accident will be the excuse," said Helga, "but really all the Wizards' Council want to do is to use this incident to demonstrate that we are incapable of protecting students and force us to make the changes that they want."

"Precisely," said Rowena. "They may even use this as the excuse they have been waiting for to prove that Muggle-Born children cause nothing but trouble, even though it was the Pure-Bloods that were causing it."

"Well, they shall not succeed," said Salazar. "Tomin shall take no blame."

Merlin looked towards him. Salazar caught his meaningful glance.

"There is no need to look at me in that way, Emrys," he said. "I have no problem with Tomin."

"Even though he is a Muggle-Born?"

"He is with a family of wizards now."

"But he still has love for his Muggle relatives."

"But he is not in a position to be influenced by them," said Salazar. "He is not about to be convinced to turn against his fellow students."

"But-"

"Enough," said Helga, though she too was looking at Salazar severely. "We must prepare for this meeting. It will be our first test. I only hope Godric shall be awake for it."

"I hope he is not," said Salazar. "He is foolish and brash and not accustomed to the subtlety of politics. He would only be a hindrance. Emrys is far more intelligent."

"Why, thank you, Salazar," said Merlin. "I shall endeavor to help, even if I  _was_  raised by a Muggle."

Salazar shot him a wry smile. "You think so badly of me Emrys," he said quietly. "I hope one day I may just raise myself in your estimations. I am no monster. "

"I do not believe that you are, just misguided," said Merlin. "And I hope one day that it will change."

Salazar bowed his head. "As do I. I wish more than anything that the need for my prejudice will soon vanish from this world." He looked up and glared at the letter still in Whitethorn's hands. "However, with such views as theirs, I do not think that such an event will occur for a long time. A very long time."

* * *

 

"I cannot do it!" Brigit was moaning, letting her wand fall to her side in frustration. "It is too difficult."

"You almost had it," Merlin smiled. "Continue to try."

"Why are we learning this again, Master Emrys?" Alwyn asked, turning to face him. "What use is this spell?"

It was now one month after Godric had slipped into his unconsciousness, and Merlin was still teaching his classes. Tired of teaching nothing but offensive and defensive spells, Merlin had decided to branch out.

"The Patronus Charm is a useful tool," Merlin said to the twenty students before him in the Dueling Chamber. "It acts as a positive force against evil and protects you from harm. It is very advanced however, I would not be teaching it to you if I had not the greatest confidence in your abilities."

"But why are we learning it in Dueling?" Danae asked. "Why not in Lady Rowena's class if it is a charm?"

"Is it no ordinary charm," Merlin said. "If you ever encounter a dark creature such as a Dementor or a Lethifold, you must be able to defend yourself against it as well as you would be able to in any other confrontational situation. The same disciplines you learn in Dueling should be able to assist you in this Charm."

"Why do we have to think of a happy memory?" Alwyn asked.

"Because it is our strength of mind and the memory of good times that see us through the bad," said Merlin. "Focusing on your happy memories keeps you strong in the face of danger. Now, all of you, try again. Remember to speak clearly."

They tried again, and the room was soon filled with vapory wisps of smoke, some of which twisted into the shadowy forms of animals, without becoming distinct. Everyone's face was screwed up in intense concentration.

Soon, the great bell rang and the students scrambled for their belongings to head down to dinner. As they began to leave, Danae turned to Merlin.

"Can you show us yours again?" she pleaded, her young face eager. "Please?"

He smiled, and drew his wand. " _Expecto Patronum!"_

A great silvery dragon, a sort of amalgamation of Kilgharrah and Aithusa streamed from his wand and went soaring through the air. The students clapped and grinned, watching its progress with wide and astonished eyes.

"Right, off with you now," Merlin said, still smiling, and they all left, still whispering about the Patronus.

Merlin turned away with a smile. The Patronus Charm was one of the few modern spells he did not mind using. He had been taught it fifty years earlier by a passing traveler, and had found it useful. The image of the dragon however always unnerved him, reminding him of the sparse contact he had with them, and the reasons for it.

"Impressive."

Merlin turned to find Rowena standing in the door, an appreciative look on her face.

"You think so?" he asked, moving towards her.

"Yes," she said, watching him. "A dragon Patronus. It is uncommon."

"I am far from a common man," Merlin said.

"Undoubtedly," she said. "They say only the most powerful of sorcerers can have their Patronus assume the shape of a creature of magic."

"Indeed," Merlin said, grinning. "So what is yours?"

She smiled, and pulled out her wand slowly. " _Expecto Patronum!"_

A great shape came galloping from her wand and whooshing around the room in a blaze of light. Merlin nodded, impressed. "So yours is also a creature of magic? How predictable of you. But … a centaur? That was not what I had expected."

"What did you expect?" she asked. "An eagle?"

"No, a shrew, to match your lovely temperament," he teased, and laughed off the inevitable glare. "But the more I think about it, the more a centaur suits. They are wise, and proud … very much like you. And I hear they like looking at the stars as much as you do."

She smiled, and put her wand away. "I am surprised that you use such a spell. I thought you did not like using magic with your wand unless it was needed?"

"I do not," Merlin said. "But a Patronus … it is different. It is evolved from Old Magic, and has more similarities with that branch of magic than any other modern spell."

"It is from the Old Religion?"

"Not exactly," he said. "But there are correlations. It is like Old Magic in that it requires emotion and self-control to cast. The happy memories that are used to cast it are often of loved ones, and love is one of the purest forms of Old Magic. This spell is powerful, and primal in nature. That I why I like it."

"You think love the most pure force in this world?"

"I do," Merlin said. "It is the one thing that cannot be beaten. What do you think of when you cast the spell?"

Rowena paused for a moment and thought contemplatively. "The first time I held Helena in my arms as a new born babe," she finally. "It was the happiest day of my life."

"And not the day this school opened?" he asked. "Not the feeling of pride and joy when Hogwarts opened its doors? That is exactly my point, Rowena. As happy as you were when the school opened, no memory could ever be as strong as the one with the love you feel for your daughter."

She was silent for a good few minutes. "I never usually give credence to emotions such as love being powerful, I always deemed them trivial, and inferior to intelligence. But … when I think of her …" She smiled. "Perhaps you are right. You make me reevaluate all things."

"Good," he said, smiling and moving towards her. "An inquisitive mind like yours should always be open to new ideas."

She looked up at him. "And what do you think of, Emrys? What are your happiest memories?"

Merlin's smile faded, and a heaviness came over his heart. He glanced away from her.

"I always had trouble with this spell," he admitted. "I thought of my friends in my old life, and the good times we shared. Yet they were never truly happy. Always were they touched with sadness. I … could not see their faces and remember the good times without also remembering how they could not last."

She frowned in sympathy, and Merlin felt once again the pain when he thought of Arthur and the others. Would he ever be able to think of them without this?

He smiled back at her though, with great effort. "However, I find my Patronus much improved of late," he said. "Now since coming here, I have new memories that I can draw on."

"Am I a part of any of those?" Rowena asked, stepping closer and looking at him with a playful glint in her eye.

"A good few of them, yes," Merlin said, and he reached out and took her hand in his, standing there, content to just stare into her eyes, beautiful blue eyes that sparkled with intelligence and wit.

"We should go down," Rowena said finally, "the last of the Governors are arriving."

Merlin groaned, and brought himself back to reality with reluctance. "Fantastic. Are they all here?"

"Almost," said Rowena, and they left the room and walked along the corridor, her arm in his. "Pollux is yet to arrive, and of course Elred can stay where he is until they are all here and ready to meet."

"I am not looking forward to this," Merlin grimaced.

"I will  _not_  let them criticise our school," Rowena said firmly. "I will not."

"Heaven forbid anyone should criticise you," Merlin teased. "They would soon find themselves in need of a physician. I think I am the only one permitted to do so."

She shot him a silent glare. "Not for much longer. Watch what you say."

"Of course, I would not wish to insult such a powerful witch."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"It has gotten me pretty far already," he laughed.

She nudged him sharply in the ribs, as several students passed by, and Merlin could not help but laugh. "You embarrass far too easily."

They were silent for a while until they found themselves in the Entrance Hall, where students were moving in for their dinner. Merlin caught sight of a few of the Governors standing conversing with Helga in the hall, looking at each of the students with a critical expression.

Rowena pulled on his arm, and led him into the Great Hall and away from the Governors. "Come, let us avoid them."

"Cowardice? I had not expected this from you."

"Is it not cowardice, it is wisdom."

"And how do you work that out?"

"Because I believe it to be wise to limit my contact with them," she said, guiding him to the top table. "If I do not I am in great danger of hexing them all to pieces."

"Good point," Merlin agreed.

They sat at the top table for dinner, but neither of them ate much. The students seem to know something was going on and whispered to each other, craning their necks to try and see the Entrance Hall. Salazar and the Headmaster sat with Rowena and Merlin, but Helga did not join them, still playing the part of the hostess. Merlin found himself growing agitated. He was not worried at the outcome, but impatient to proceed.

After what seemed like an age, a house-elf came into the Great Hall and hurried up to the high table, making a quick bow as he did so. Immediately, all the students were on edge. The house-elf lowered his voice, but it really made no difference, his voice was so squeaky and the hall so silent nothing could have passed unheard.

"Mistress Helga wishes to see all of you," the elf said, his eyes wide. "The Governors have all arrived and are waiting in the library."

"The library," repeated Rowena, her jaw clenching. "That is  _my_  domain."

"Come," said Salazar, and the four of them stood and excited the hall. The students watched their progress with interest, still whispering to each other. But neither the Founders, Merlin nor Whitethorn said a thing until they had reached the doors of the library. They pushed them open to find the twelve Governors and Helga sitting at a long table in the centre of the room. The entering group silently found seats along the table. Pollux, the one who had been so critical at the last meeting, raised his eyebrows at Merlin's presence, but said nothing. His friends, the ones selected by the Wizards' Council regarded them coolly. Salazar and Rowena glared coldly back, neither one willing to back down.

"Excellent," said Farrall Abbot, smiling at the new entrants, along with Elred who sat at his right. "Now, perhaps we may get this odious meeting over with."

"I do not see it as odious, Abbott," said Pollux sharply. "We have some very serious matters to discuss."

"Really, then I must be completely unaware of them," said Lady Silena Flint, looking rather bored. "I see no occasion for this meeting that the Wizards' Council has demanded."

"Then I shall illuminate you," said Pollux. "I call into question the ability of these so-called  _Founders_  in running this school. A child was recently attacked when under the supervision of the school. Surely that cannot be condoned?"

"The child in question is perfectly well and safe," said Helga coldly, her gaze steely as she looked at him. "Tomin was given the best care available. Already we have taken measures to ensure student's safety by limiting village visits to those in third year and above only, and to make sure there are plenty of teachers on hand to protect them."

Pollux raised an eyebrow, looking at her in distaste. "Really? So you think such an error of judgment can be excused simply by stating you have taken steps to remedy it? The situation may have been much worse."

"But it was not," said Elred, speaking up. "My son is now perfectly well, and the Founders have reassured me such a thing will not happen again. I trust their word, and so should you."

"Your son?" asked another member of the Wizards' Council delegation. "I thought the child was a Mudblood?"

"He is a  _Muggle-Born_ ," said Helga, glaring at the man. "A Muggle-Born who has been adopted by wizards. Not all people are as sickeningly biased as you."

The man glared back at her. "Perhaps your grasp of English is not quite as perfect as you think it, Lady Helga? Mudblood is just a term for those children born of Muggle parents."

Helga looked as if she were about to curse him, and Merlin was privately grateful he was not in that man's shoes.

"My English is just fine, sir," she said, keeping her voice perfectly controlled. "Mudblood is a disgusting and degrading term, not something that one should hear in civilized conversation, and one which I shall certainly not allow to be used within  _my_  school."

She had got one over on them there, Merlin noticed. He smiled inwardly, using the word Mudblood in front of her and insulting her nationality at once was certainly dangerous.

"Regardless, he proves a danger to this school," Pollux went on.

"How so?" Rowena asked, also glaring at him, though with less fire than Helga, preferring to keep it in check. "How can Tomin prove a danger?"

"Not only he," said Pollux. "He caused trouble in the village, no doubt a result of his Muggle heritage and unfamiliarity with our customs. Lord Prelin told me so himself, he was there for the entire thing and was most unjustly banished from the village by Lord Godric. His report to Chief Merrol was most disturbing. The boy put himself and all other students at danger. I'm sure you would not have liked  _your_  son in such danger, Lord Farrall?" he said, addressing this to Pelagius Abbott's father.

Here, Merlin could stay silent no longer.

"Tomin did not  _cause_  trouble," he said loudly. "If anything, he helped to prevent it. Those wizards, including your precious Lord Prelin, attacked Muggle-Born students, without provocation, and almost killed them. If not for Tomin and the other students who stepped in, there may have been several fatalities. It was Pure-Blood bigots that caused the trouble, not Tomin."

Pollux turned to face him now, with the same sneer that had graced his face the last time the Governors had met, only now directed at Merlin rather than the others. "And how do you know this?" he asked, completely unaffected. "Did the boy himself tell you?"

"I was there," said Merlin, "I can tell you  _exactly_  what happened. Ask any of the other students, ask Lady Rowena's daughter, whose life Tomin saved. Either of us could tell you the cruelty with which those men tried to harm those Muggle-Borns."

Pollux sneered. "And both you and the Ravenclaw child are Half-Bloods, your testimony is invalid."

At this, Rowena leapt to her feet and pointed her wand at Pollux, all attempts to conceal her emotion gone, her hand shaking. "What  _exactly_  do you mean by that?" she demanded, her voice dangerous.

"Only that the two of them are likely to be biased," Pollux said calmly, not even heeding the wand pointed at his chest. "I cannot trust them."

For a moment, Merlin was certain Rowena would curse him. Her face was white was anger, and she actually raised her wand and opened her mouth to utter the words-

"Rowena, don't," Merlin said to her quietly, in Gaelic, so the majority of those present would not understand. "This is one occasion where you  _shouldn't_  let your emotions control you. Think this through."

Rowena stood there a few more moments, her wand still pointed at Pollux, shaking with rage. The entire room seemed to watch her with bated breath until she finally managed to master herself, and her face was masked from all emotion and she seated herself. As shocking behavior as this was from Rowena, Merlin was not entirely surprised; he knew that the only thing that could excite her to such great emotion was her daughter.

Calmly, though seething with anger himself, Merlin turned to Pollux, who was looking between Rowena and Merlin was interest. He nodded, as though something had been confirmed, and smiled a little too knowingly at them. "Fascinating," was all that he mumbled.

Merlin felt a little uneasy at this, and remembered Salazar's old warning about the rumours circulating about them, and how it may damage Rowena's reputation in the eyes of the Wizards' Council.

"How do you know that I am a Half-Blood?" Merlin asked him, determined to bring his attention back.

Pollux smiled. "I know much about you, Master Emrys, though we have never met. My nephew is a student here. He heard you discuss the matter with that …  _Muggle Studies_  teacher."

"So now you have our own students spying on us?" Salazar asked, his voice laced with anger. "I thought that was what this Board was for?"

"This Board is to be a liaison between the government of the land and the school which is educating its children," said Lord Farrall, bringing some businesslike tones back to the meeting. He frowned. "The matter in the village does not trouble me; the Founders have detailed their plans for the improvement of student safety and they satisfy me perfectly, and I have no qualms about the wellbeing of my son in these matters. However," and here he turned to the Founders with an almost apologetic look, "I do worry about this accident of Lord Godric's."

"There was an incident with a bear in the Forbidden Forest," said Salazar immediately. "He went out to resolve the issue and was injured protecting the students of this school."

"I had heard differently," said Pollux "That Lord Godric deliberately sought out this bear to fight with it and in so doing risked his life, and possibly that of his students. Such reckless behaviour-"

"Godric is not reckless," said Salazar. "He would never do anything to endanger this school. He is perfectly sensible to danger and is more than intelligent enough to assess the situation. He is no less responsible than the rest of us."

Merlin had to try and hide his amusement at these blatant lies coming from Salazar; all he'd been doing for the last several weeks was criticise Godric and call him an irresponsible idiot. But, it seemed, against the Wizards' Council at least, he was determined to defend him.

"I admit to also being troubled," said Lady Silena, frowning. "Can such a man who takes such risks be in charge of students?"

"Godric would never endanger a student," said Helga, who also was probably endeavouring to conceal at least part of the truth.

"But surely, while he recovers, his students shall be neglected-"

"Master Emrys has agreed to take on Lord Godric's duties during his invalidity," said Rowena. "The students are in no way neglected."

Everyone turned to Merlin here, and he nodded. "I have taken charge of his lessons for the meanwhile," he said. "They are perfectly well catered for."

"They are indeed," said Elred, loudly voicing his support for Merlin. "Tomin told me just this afternoon how well Emrys has been teaching him. He is more than able."

Merlin smiled at him, although he doubted Elred and Tomin had had the time to talk, and suspected Elred had just made it up.

The Governors were looking at him severely. "You are teaching Dueling now?" Pollux asked. "And tell me, what qualifies you to do so?"

"I have great experience with magic," said Merlin simply.

"But you have had no formal instruction?"

Merlin didn't want to admit it, but he could hardly escape it.

"No, I have not."

There was a hurried murmuring broke out at this.

"Emrys is as great a Dueler as any of us here, regardless of whether he has had tutors or no," said Rowena, glaring at the whisperers. "I taught myself most of my magic, as did several of our other teachers. He and his methods of teaching are perfectly satisfactory."

Perfectly satisfactory? Merlin smiled; that was high praise indeed coming from Rowena. He found he rather liked her defending him.

"Of course," said Pollux with a leer, "of course  _you_  would defend him. But not all of us are as inclined to like him as  _you_  are."

Rowena seemed to flush. "And what do you mean by  _that?"_

"Only that your  _particular_ regard for him has not gone unnoticed by those of us with influence-"

"Enough," interrupted Whitethorn, who until now had said nothing. He looked evenly around at all the Governors, giving Merlin and Rowena a moment to get rid of the blushes from their cheeks. "You selected me to be the Headmaster of your school by unanimous vote because you trusted that I would be able to properly run this school both to the satisfaction of the Founders and the Wizards' Council. I have done so, and I am perfectly happy with how this school is progressing. Do you not trust my judgment? Why then did you select me as Headmaster?"

There was silence, and Whitethorn continued with a vigour greater than anything Merlin had yet seen from the man.

"Precautions have been taken to ensure the future safety of Hogwarts students on village trips," he said. "And Lord Godric shall soon be well enough to regain control of his classes. There has been no harm done, and frankly, I am astounded by the Wizards' Council desire to have this meeting called unnecessarily. I see no problems within this school, and neither should you.'

"But you have missed out the most intriguing part of the story," said Pollux. "Lord Godric, so I am told, suffered no external injuries. Why then is he in the infirmary in a deathlike trance? There is something that is being concealed."

Whitethorn paused, and the Founders and Merlin exchanged worried glances.

"Lord Godric suffered internal complaints," said Helga, staring back at him without a hint of the intimidation Pollux had hoped to incite. "He is being well cared for by people who actually understand medicine. No one hopes for his recovery more than we do."

"But what is it exactly that ails him?"

"We could show you if you'd like," said Salazar, darkly, his wand tapping against the table.

Pollux glared at him, aware that something was being kept from him, but he fell silent. The Founders were giving nothing away.

"If Headmaster Whitethorn is content with the input of the Founders at this school, then I can find no occasion for doubting his word, after all,  _we_  were the ones who appointed him, he is unbiased," Lord Farrall was saying. "Is there anyone here who would wish action taken against the Founders?"

Immediately, the hands of all those appointed by the Wizards' Council went up, and Merlin felt his anger building. They didn't really care about the safety of the students, or feel that Godric was unfit, they were just looking for an excuse to remove the Founders and impose their own values on the school.

The ones appointed by the Founders seemed to realize this. "Anyone  _other_  than those allied to the Wizards' Council?" Lord Farrall asked, sniffing disapprovingly at the other Governors;  _everyone_  was supposed to be unbiased on the Board. No other hands were raised.

"Then that is settled," said Lady Silena brusquely. "I am satisfied with Headmaster Whitethorn's assurances, and see no reason for interfering in the school at this time. If there is to be no unanimous vote against them, the Founders shall remain where they are."

Merlin almost grinned. Lord Farrall nodded. "Indeed, now, is there anything else that must be seen to? I would rather like to see my son before I leave for home."

No one said anything, and the meeting was adjourned. Helga stood up and smiled. "Come, your son has been Sorted into my House, let me show you where his dormitory is."

Lord Farrall nodded to her, and they left the room discussing young Pelagius' talent for Herbology. The other Governors dispersed, and Merlin left the room with Salazar and Rowena. Just as they were getting to the doorway however, Pollux blocked their path. He all but glared at the Founders, but most especially at Merlin.

"You may have won a small victory here today," he said, "but this is not over, and I shall not rest until this school is properly run, and properly regulated. You shall not always be around. The Governors shall be. We shall always be here to be an eternal thorn in your side, and halt your plans for your ill-guided integration."

"And Hogwarts shall stand firm through it all," said Rowena, glaring at him fiercely, even though she was much shorter. "We shall not bow to you, not now, not in a hundred years. You can never truly stand in the way of progress."

"I beg to differ,  _my Lady_ ," he said, the contempt for her and her title evident in his voice as being inferior because of her background. "Perhaps it will not be now, but I can guarantee in the future, that the Governors and the Wizards' Council shall take  _proper_ control of the school in due time. It will not be allowed to run around in the free manner it is now. The school  _will_  bow to government. It is inevitable."

And he swept off with another smirk, leaving Merlin and Salazar glaring at him. Rowena scowled and whipped out her wand, but Merlin quickly put out his arm to stop her and pull her back.

"What has gotten into you today?" he murmured to her in Gaelic. "You're acting almost as recklessly as Godric."

This was enough to calm her down. She stood there and put her wand back into her pocket, trying to regain a dignified air, though her cheeks were still pink with anger. Salazar had watched the whole thing with an amused expression.

"Well," he said, smiling. "Who would have thought you were such a little wildcat, Rowena? I had always thought you so serene, but out of your books you seem almost fierce! But I suppose the influence of a certain  _someone_  may have changed that." He smiled again as the two of them seemed to blush. "I like you better this way. We shall need you in feisty spirits again in the future if we are to keep the Governors at bay."

He nodded to them both, and headed back off towards the dungeons, leaving them standing there. Merlin was about to turn and say something to her, when Elred called him from behind.

They talked for a few moments about the meeting and Elred requested Merlin take him to see Tomin, which he happily agreed to. Rowena followed them, and remained quiet the entire time, saying nothing. Usually this was normal behaviour for Rowena, she preferred to stay quiet in group settings and silently reflect, but this time, Merlin could see something was troubling her. Elred and Tomin did not notice however, the entire time the four of them were talking in the Gryffindor Common Room which was located just a little way down the corridor from Godric's quarters, but Merlin found himself glancing at her more than usual, worried by the unusually grave expression in her eyes.

After a while of catching up between father and son, Merlin and Rowena escorted Elred down to the Entrance Hall and stood on the threshold of the castle to see him off on the path down to the village. Some of the other Governors were also leaving, preferring to stay in the Hog's Mead inn rather than the castle, but most were staying the night.

Merlin waited until Elred was out of sight, before he took Rowena's hand and led her out of the castle and down the lawns to the lake.

"Emrys!" she said, "it is late. What are you doing?"

"Just come," he said, and continued leading her down towards the lake. It was cold, and their breath misted before their faces, but Merlin did not stop until they had rounded a bend and were out of sight of the castle. Here, he stopped beneath a tree by the shores of the lake, and sat on the ground, pulling Rowena down beside him.

She half-glared at him, and shivered. "Why have you brought me here?"

"There is something troubling you," he said. "I want to know what it is."

She scowled, and looked out over the silent lake which was glinting in the moonlight. "There is nothing."

"Do not lie to me," Merlin said gently. "I can tell."

She shivered. "Why could you not have asked me in the castle where it is warm? It is December! I am freezing."

"Easily remedied," Merlin said, and reached out to pull her closer and into his arms, within the warmth of his own cloak. She stiffened for a moment, before relaxing, and resting her head on his chest, closing her eyes in exhaustion. He rested his own head against hers, and stayed silent. As troubled as his mind was, he liked having her there. Her warm body was pressed up against his, and he wound his fingers around her frozen ones, sighing in contentment to have her here with him. Once again, all rational thoughts vacated his mind.

"Thank you," she murmured eventually, raising her head a little until it rested on his shoulder. "But why could we not be in the castle?"

"Because if my suspicions are right, you fear being overheard most," said Merlin, watching her face carefully. "Is that not right?"

She was silent a moment, listening to the lapping of water and the sounds of the trees in the distant forest.

"What the Governors were saying disturbed me," she admitted finally.

"About Helena? About Muggle-Borns?"

"No, though that disturbed me also, it was … about us."

He nodded, his suspicions confirmed. "You mean the rumours about us."

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "I do not want them to think they are true."

"They  _are_  true."

"But I don't want them to know that!" she said, sitting up fully now. "It is mortifying."

"You care what they think?"

"Of course I do!" she said, frustrated. "It is easy for you; you are a man! People  _expect_  you to have extra-marital affairs. But I am a young and widowed mother. It is not … becoming for someone like me to … to … you know …"

He chuckled. "You are such a prude."

"One of us needs to be," she said, eyeing him beadily. "A woman's reputation is damaged more easily than a man's. The Wizards' Council, the teachers and the parents of our students will not take me seriously if they find me to be a woman of loose morals."

"I'd hardly say that," said Merlin. "If anything, you're the most upright, rigid and proper one of all the Founders."

"Still," she said. "They will not see that, and instead question my sense of decorum."

He nodded. "You are a proud woman," he said. "You think greatly of what others think and abhor weakness of any sort. You hate to expose yourself to ridicule."

"Exactly," she said, looking down at the ground.

"Then you wish to end our liaisons?" Merlin asked, even though a pain clenched his heart at the thought of never being near her again.

She hesitated, before inching closer to him once more and placing her hand in his. "No," she said, after taking a deep breath. "I like who I am when I am with you. Salazar said it just now, and Helga has noticed as well. I do not want to be apart from you. But … we must be more careful. I must demonstrate that I am able to do my duties and not have people questioning my morals in such a way."

"Then I am glad," he said, drawing her back into an embrace. "You're the best thing that has happened to me in years."

She laughed softly and pushed him away. "Your silky words are endless."

He shook his head, deadly serious. "I am telling the truth. Like you, I hated who I was before I met you. I was dead inside, and you have brought some of my old self, my old life back into me. I will be grateful for that until the day I die."

 _However far that day may be away_ , he added silently, resting his head on hers once more.

"Do not worry," he mumbled. "Everyone shall see what a capable and intelligent woman you are. And besides, in a few years, I shall be gone, and there shall be nothing to stand in your way."

Immediately, he wished he had not spoken, as a great despair washed over him at the thought of the day he knew he would have to leave her. She froze in his arms, and was silent. She clutched tighter to him, the only sign she made of hearing what he had said.

He could not help but sigh as he held her. The day of parting would be painful beyond all belief for him, and from Rowena's behaviour just now, it would be no less hard on her. Once again he called himself a fool for getting so heavily involved in her life.

It was times such as these that he felt as if the Old Religion was literally laughing at him. A few years of happiness just all he was owed after three centuries of misery and yet more promised to come after he left.

He hoped he would have the strength to do what was needed when that day came. But for now, he might as well find as much happiness as he could.

 


	32. Christmas at Hogwarts

December was soon in full flow and Hogwarts awoke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. Excitement reigned high as students flocked to the grounds for snowball fights and other activities, coming in breathless and pink-faced from the cold. For many, this was their first chance to have fun in the snow; peasant children had often had to work instead of play and were discouraged from playing in snow since their houses were so cold, and the wealthier children had been expected to be much more dignified. The students quite literally ran wild in their enthusiasm for playing. Snow was trailed along the castle's many corridors, but it did not matter since the army of house-elves kept each and every fire roaring warmly to welcome them when they finally came indoors again.

Even Merlin's spirits were lifted. They had been lowered somewhat by the visit of the Governors, but in the three weeks since they had left, not a word had been heard from them since, and the Founders seemed ready to forget entirely about them, despite Merlin's misgivings that they would cause trouble in the future.

The school was gearing up for the Yuletide festivities, and Merlin had to admit to also feeling a touch of excitement. Being pagan, he had never celebrated the Christmas holiday like many students here had; his village and Camelot had celebrated the winter solstice instead. He was looking forward to celebrating it for the first time. Indeed, now he finally had people to celebrate it with.

"Why exactly are we celebrating it?" Merlin asked Helga, as they moved around in the Hospital Wing, where Godric still lay unconscious. "That is what I have never understood. It is a Christian festival, so why do so many witches and wizards celebrate it?"

"Do you think none of us are Christian ourselves?" Helga asked him, winking.

He stared. "Truly? You are Christian?"

"Why is that such a surprise?" she laughed lightly. "My family became Christian many generations ago. It preaches kindness and love for fellow man. I hold to that."

"And what about the part about hating witches?"

She smiled. "I choose to interpret that as only hating  _evil_  witches. The religion itself is not evil, just some of its followers are. Many witches and wizards are themselves Christian, or at least, follow Christian tradition, either to blend in with their neighbours, or just for their own personal enjoyment."

He nodded, still a little surprised. Then he shook his head; it made sense when he thought about it. If anyone embodied the true spirit of what Christianity was  _supposed_  to be, it was Helga. She could certainly have taught Father Callan a few things about Christian generosity.

"I take it you are not Christian?" she asked, watching him carefully, as he mixed a potion rather absentmindedly.

"No," he laughed. "I'm what the radicals call 'pagan'."

"Like the Viking raiders?"

"No," he said, his mind drifting. "Beliefs much older than that. My mother taught them to me when I was very young, and she would turn in her grave if she thought I was forsaking the old ways."

He smiled a little as he thought of her and the way she had told him stories of the old gods and goddesses, and instructed him in their worship and their way of life. He had not adhered to those practices for centuries, but he had not wholly given them up either. Today was the winter solstice, a day which would have been filled with feasting in Ealdor. He thought back to those celebrations fondly; they would not be forgotten by him, even if the rest of the world forsook them.

"You never mention your family," said Helga, frowning softly. "Are they …"

"Dead?" Merlin said sharply, brought back to the tenth century with a jerk. "Yes. A long time."

He turned and began mixing his potion again, having to start all over again after his absence of mind had made him ruin it. He felt Helga staring at him, but he did not turn. Thinking of his family and the old days was still painful. Unlike with Arthur, thinking of the death of his mother did not give him pain; she had lived to a ripe old age and died peacefully in bed with Merlin at her side, he had made his peace with that. No, what pained him was the end of that life, and the way it had ended.

Helga came to stand beside him, and took over his potion with a smile. She mixed away and added a few more ingredients while Merlin stood lost in his thoughts.

"Your mother may rest easy," she said softly. "I shall not try to convert you, like I know so many others would. Our beliefs may not be wholly alien to each other. The many gods you believe in may just be manifestations of my one God. I do not care what you practice. As long as you're not sacrificing students to the gods of the underworld or something, you are welcome to believe what you will."

"Thank you," he said, smiling at her. "I shall try to restrain my heathen sacrificing until I leave the school."

She laughed again, and turned back to the beds in the Hospital Wing where she was administering Pepper-Up Potions to students with severe colds. She worked for a little while, Merlin hanging back and saying nothing. After she had finished, and several students left the infirmary with steam coming from their ears, Helga turned back to him and smiled wearily.

"Preparations are almost ready," she said. "Christmas is a most tiring affair. Classes may end on Christmas Eve, but twelve days of celebration will still be hard to control. If only the Yuletide season was not so  _long!_ "

"You don't believe that," he said, grinning. "You're enjoying every moment of it."

She threw her hands up in mock exasperation. "Am I so transparent?"

"Yes," he said, and they both laughed.

"It is true," she said. "I love to laugh, and I love all situations where one  _can_  laugh, especially if it is a day specifically designed for the purpose. Twelve days of festivities, two large feasts, gift giving, songs and games …"

"Not to mention this dance of yours on Christmas night," Merlin said, shaking his head. "Why on earth have you taken on such a responsibility?"

"Because I can," she admitted with a smile. "If we are to celebrate, I want to do it properly. I want to make the Yuletide season at Hogwarts something to remember. Think of all the poorer students, they will never have experienced anything like this in their lives! I want their school years to be as magical as possible, in all senses of the word."

"But most of the students cannot dance," he observed. "Will that not be an obstacle?"

She smiled archly. "I shall teach them how to perform these dances."

"And how shall you do that?" he asked.

"I plan to call a meeting tomorrow night to teach them," she said, turning away. "Some of course will already know them, and I shall help instruct the others."

"And how do you plan to demonstrate the dances?"

"I shall have a partner of course."

"But Godric is still unconscious, and Salazar isn't exactly the dancing type."

"No, he isn't," said Helga with a smile. "I have someone else in mind."

* * *

 

"I can't believe I agreed to this," moaned Merlin, as the Great Hall filled with dozens and dozens of students, all looking excited. "I can't dance."

"Yes, you can," said Helga, pointing her wand at a group of instruments at the front of the hall that had been cleared of the House tables. They rose up into the air and began to play a lively tune on lutes and mandolins on their own.

"And what makes you think that?" he asked, still a little miffed that she had talked him into doing this.

"You mentioned many months ago when we first met that you had once been a member of a royal court," Helga said matter-of-factly. "You cannot have been a member without learning how to dance."

Merlin winced, and felt his spirits sink. "That was a long time ago. A  _long_  time ago. And the dances there were a bit different. And anyway, I wasn't very good at them."

"Then you shall learn as well," said Helga, a hint of a playful smirk on her face.

"But some of the students here will know it better than I-"

"You must know the basics, and you have evidently danced before, you shall pick it up easily," she smiled, moving off to pair off the students.

Merlin wasn't quite so certain. True, he  _had_  danced at the court gatherings in Camelot, but only very rarely, and never very well. Arthur had laughed at him very often for it. Even when he did dance, he only ever partnered Gwen, who was least likely to laugh at him. Now he was looking at embarrassing himself in front of all the waiting students who were watching him expectantly.

Helga began to arrange the pairs of students into their starting positions, all in a large circle, and Merlin groaned again. These dances were so difficult! They were done in a great circle, with a great deal of interweaving and clever footwork. He was bound to make a fool of himself.

Eventually, Helga moved back into the centre of the circle and moved closer to Merlin.

"Now," she beamed at the gathered students. "Watch very carefully to these steps myself and Master Emrys shall show you. Observe!"

It wasn't as bad as Merlin had feared. The first dance Helga chose to show them was relatively similar to a popular one that had been danced in Camelot, which he had often watched being performed if not participated in, and he found it fairly easy to keep up, especially since Helga seemed to be going slower for the student's benefit. She moved on to a few quicker ones which Merlin had more difficulty with. He felt like the clumsy idiot of his youth, stumbling over his own feet a couple of times, but he soon got the hang of it, despite his embarrassment.

The students were hardly much better than him, so that was some comfort. The students from wealthier families, like Helga, were of course perfect, stepping in and out in all the right places, but the poorer ones clutched at each other, turned in the wrong direction, fell over or smacked each other in the face with stray arms. But this did not dampen their excitement however, and more often than not they fell into bursts of giggling, laughing when they went wrong, and laughing at others in their turn. Helga didn't mind, unlike what Rowena would have done. She wasn't after perfection, only that they had a good time.

After a few hours, the students had learned the basics of the dances and left in high spirits, chattering excitedly about the dance of Christmas night, comparing notes on what they were wearing and who they hoped would ask them to dance.

Merlin sank down on one of the benches that had been pushed to the side.

"Thank the gods that is over with."

"I think you were a lovely dancer," Helga laughed, sitting beside him. Her smiled broadened as she saw his look of disbelief. "Well, perhaps you are not the greatest technical dancer of all time, but you seemed to enjoy it, after the initial embarrassment. That is what it is all about."

"I suppose," said Merlin, trying not to relive a mortifying moment earlier when he had stood on Helga's toes.

"Are you looking forward to the dance?" she asked him slyly. "Thinking of asking someone to dance?"

Merlin laughed hollowly. "She would not have me."

"I have noticed," Helga said, frowning. "Rowena is keeping her distance from you. I wonder why?"

It was certainly true. Since their discussion in the grounds, Rowena and Merlin had largely stayed apart, aside from the odd stolen kiss in the darkened corridors, when he had checked nether the students or Peeves were anywhere nearby. He wondered about lying to Helga, but he knew he could not.

"She is conscious of the rumours that are being spread about us," he sighed. "She wants to appear … professional."

"Yes, Rowena always was too conscious about appearing upright and proper," sighed Helga. She eyes Merlin. "But that is not all. She is acting … colder as of late. Almost the same way she acted before you arrived."

He winced and looked away. He had noticed that as well.

"Perhaps it is because of the temporary nature of your time here with us?" Helga asked gently. "You tell us one day that you must leave. Is … is that day near?"

She sounded tentative, and worried, and Merlin turned back to her with a forced smile. "No, not as far as I can tell," he said, to her evident relief. "But perhaps she has just been faced with the reality of it. We had agreed not to think of the future."

"But she cannot help it," Helga nodded. "None of us can. It is hard to be involved so deeply in something you know shall only be temporary. The things that are the most fleeting are the most painful."

"Too true," Merlin mumbled, and looked up at the enchanted ceiling, his heart heavy. There was nothing he'd like better than to just plan a future with Rowena, but he knew that it could never be. Perhaps it was the knowledge of that cold fact that made her so distant these last few weeks.

* * *

 

Christmas Eve came, and the classes finally finished, with some village students walking down to visit their families for the entire holiday. Other students, under the supervision of the Care of Magical Creatures teacher and the gamekeeper headed out into the Forbidden Forest and brought back all manner of evergreens, mistletoe and other winter plants to decorate the corridors and Great Hall with. Students were prepared to celebrate non-stop for the twelve days of Yuletide, culminating in the feast at Epiphany when gifts would be exchanged. Excitement was running high.

Christmas morning dawned crisp and cool, and students once again raced around the grounds chasing each other with snowballs, often enchanted, playing carefree among the snow. Even the house-elves had the morning off to celebrate (but only the morning, they would not tolerate any longer than that), and were often both the target and the proliferators of the nastiest snowballs. However, soon they retreated back indoors to prepare the great feast that would precede the Yule Ball, which was what Helga was now calling it, and students themselves soon withdrew to get ready.

Merlin wasn't entirely excited himself. Tenga was in his quarters, helping him with the elaborately rich robes that Elred had had made for him and sent up to the castle as an early gift. He almost sighed as he looked at them. They were beautiful, and a fine testament to Elred's skill, but they were just not  _him_. Since when had he had a servant to help him dress, and in such clothes as these? He had grown accustomed to rich clothes since coming to Hogwarts around a year ago now, but he still did not entirely feel like he fitted in, like he had felt in Camelot.

But still, he dressed in the robes, and soon went down to the Entrance Hall, where all the students were milling around happily in a multitude of colours. The richer children of course had elaborate robes of bright silks and sparkling jewellery, but even the poorer children wearing only their least tatty clothes looked lovely, because despite differences in status and wealth, each was as happy as the next.

Children spread through the crowd looking for their friends and their partners; the House tables tonight would be open to all students. Merlin waited awkwardly beside the other teachers, waiting for the Founders to arrive and open the doors to the Great Hall.

"Emrys!"

Salazar was coming up from the dungeons, wearing elaborate emerald robes. He grimaced at the sight of everyone standing around.

"Strange way to spend an evening, don't you agree?"

"You don't like dances?" Merlin asked,

"I don't like social gatherings at all," Salazar said. "I prefer my books and my potions. But I am a Founder, I suppose, and I really ought to make an appearance. Helga would kill me if I did not. Where is she anyway?"

"Probably still getting ready," said Merlin. "I haven't seen her."

"I'm right here," a voice sounded behind them, and they both turned.

Helga was standing a few feet away, positively glowing with radiance. She was dressed in a shimmering golden gown which fell about her in soft folds and trailed the ground. Her hair was bound and decorated with ornaments, but overall, it was simple. It was her glowing smile that made her look beautiful.

"Helga!" said Salazar, bowing his head slightly. "A vision indeed! Where have you been hiding such beauty?"

She just smiled. "You don't scrub up too badly yourself, Salazar," she observed, a hint of a tease in her voice.

"I am humbled indeed by such a compliment. But where is Rowena? Has she torn herself away from her library and Old Magic studies long enough to remember to attend?"

"She is right behind me," said Helga, and she seemed to glance at Merlin in particular as she spoke.

Merlin looked beyond Helga and literally felt his jaw drop open. Rowena never usually took much care in her appearance; wearing only simple gowns and arranging her hair in only the basic of styles, but tonight … Merlin could honestly say he had never seen such beauty. She was dressed in a deep blue dress that seemed to sparkle with starlight as she moved, and her long dark hair was hanging about her face, framing it beautifully. But, as when they had first met, there was a sadness about her. A sadness that Merlin felt pierce his heart cruelly.

"You're staring," Salazar whispered to him, and Merlin immediately closed his mouth, though still tried to watch her as much as possible.

"Are we ready?" Helga asked her as she approached, and Rowena nodded almost absentmindedly. "Good, now, we should lead the way. A pity Godric is not here," Helga said, her face upset for a moment. "But …"

"Take my arm instead, Helga," said Salazar, offering it to her. "If that great oaf cannot be bothered to awaken for Christmas of all things he deserves to miss out on the company of a beautiful woman."

"Thank you," said Helga, and took it, the two of them moving off to open the doors into the Great Hall, leaving Merlin with Rowena. Suddenly, he felt almost shy around her.

"Well, I- I suppose we'd better … better …" he mumbled, tongue-tied at the way she was looking at him. Silently, he just held out his own arm, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it, and they joined the other two, Merlin's heart racing like some silly youth's. What was wrong with him?

Helga pushed open the doors, and the four of them, accompanied by Helena who was dressed in the beautiful dress Elred had made for her, strode into the hall followed by all the students. The house-elves had decorated it well; the walls lined with evergreens, with wreaths of holly and mistletoe here and there, with the usual candles floating in the air, flickering a multitude of colours. They reached the top table, Whitethorn spoke a few words about the festivities and the golden plates were filled with all manner of rich foods, Christmas geese every few feet, pies, sweet things and puddings, and soon everyone was preoccupied with eating and laughing.

Merlin however continually found his eyes flicking back to Rowena. She looked sad once again, and his heart went out to her. After the sumptuous meal, which Merlin had barely touched, the House tables were cleared away, and a small troop of musicians entered the hall and began to play in a corner, students rushing forwards to claim a partner and begin to dance, still laughing joyfully and singing along to some of the tunes. Merlin stayed seated for most of the first few dances, though eventually he was prevailed upon to take the floor first with Olwyn, the Muggle Studies teacher, and then Helga, who claimed him for several dances. This alone was enough to raise his spirits, as Helga did nothing but laugh, and he could not help but laugh along with her. His dancing became steadily worse, as he turned in wrong directions and more often than not tripped up over his own robes, but it did not matter since Helga only laughed it off. Even Salazar began to dance with some of the other teachers, betraying his own good breeding and secretive love of mischief in the process. Finally he was beginning to enjoy himself, dancing both with Helga and with Helena who was even worse than himself, when he saw a blue robed figure slip out of the doors in into the Entrance Hall. Merlin stopped, and muttered something to Helga before slipping out after her.

He moved across the Entrance Hall to find Rowena standing before the open doors of the Great hall watching the falling snow with a rather melancholy expression.

"Not enjoying yourself?" he asked, startling her.

"I am not much of a dancer," she said, looking back out over the grounds. "Such social gatherings do not suit me."

"That's what Salazar said," Merlin said. "And now he's dancing around and acting as much of an idiot as the students."

"Salazar is drunk on mulled wine."

"Ah, that explains it," Merlin said grinning. But Rowena did not even crack a smile.

"What is wrong?" he asked gently, standing next to her.

"Nothing."

He rolled his eyes. "Why do you always say that? Tell me, please."

"There is no need," she said coldly. "You had best go back to the ball. Helga will be waiting."

"Helga can get along fine without me."

"Really?" she asked, still rather cold. "From the looks of things the two of you were practically inseparable."

Something seemed to fall into place, and a huge grin spread across his face. "Rowena Ravenclaw, are you jealous?"

"Of course not!" she objected fiercely.

"I think you are," he said, still smiling.

"I am not!"

"You really don't need to be," Merlin said. "Helga is nothing more than a friend."

Rowena glared at him, torn between objecting fiercely and giving in. "I … I'm not jealous."

"You are, you're just too proud to admit to being emotionally compromised," he said, drawing closer, and putting an arm around her waist. "What on earth do you have to be jealous of Helga for?"

"It's … it's …" began Rowena, still unwilling to admit the truth. "You and Helga … you are so alike. You are both so open and friendly. And I … I am not. I never have been."

He chuckled, despite her glare. "Helga is a dear friend, but nothing more.  _You_  are the only one for me." And before she could protest, he had leaned down and captured her mouth with a quick kiss.

"But why?" she asked, frowning, looking almost child-like in her confusion; this state of mind was strange to her. "I am far more work."

"I know," he laughed. "But perhaps that is why. I wanted to help you, and in the process, I realised that like you I had been a fool in denying myself such happiness."

She shifted uncomfortably. "But it cannot last."

"And that is what is truly troubling you," Merlin said, remembering her reaction just a few weeks earlier, when this coldness had began. "That this … this cannot last."

"I have felt more alive in this past year with you than I ever have," she admitted, and Merlin was astonished to see a wateriness to her eyes. "I do not want it to end."

"Neither do I," Merlin said, a pain deep inside of him.

"Then why must it?"

"Because there are greater forces at work in this world," he said, hating himself for every word he spoke. "I must obey them, as must you."

"I do not want to," she said fiercely.

"Neither do I," Merlin said again. "But we all have our duties. And mine … mine is to leave this castle when the time is right."

"And when will that be?" she asked.

"Hopefully, not for many more years," he said, feeling his heart break to see the way she tried to hide her despair, and the strong feelings rising within his own chest.

He shook himself, and tried to bring himself out of this despair. He placed a hand under her chin and forced her to look at him.

"It is Christmas," he said, "a new year is beginning. Let us make the most of it."

After a long moment of staring at him, she finally nodded. He managed a small smile.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look?"

"Beauty is irrelevant," she said immediately, but he noticed a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Why don't you and  _I_ dance? Helga shall be entirely forgotten," he said.

"I do not like to dance."

"Beneath your dignity?" Merlin asked with a wry smile. "Don't worry, I'm awful at it too."

"It would be inappropriate-"

"They already know most of the truth anyway," argued Merlin. "We could not erase the gossip now even if we tried. For once, let yourself be bourn away by emotion. I promise I won't get  _too_  carried away."

She laughed, and they met together in a passionate kiss, Merlin winding his arms around her and drawing her closer, delighted when she did the same. He deepened the kiss and he was honestly just content to stay there all evening rather than rejoining the others.

But it was not to be.

"Aha!"

The two of them leapt apart, expecting Salazar, or Peeves or one of the teachers to have caught them, but they froze in astonishment instead. Coming down the marble staircase, dressed in his night clothes, was Godric Gryffindor.

He beamed at them and laughed heartily. "I knew it!" he boomed. "I knew there was something between the two of you! Thought you could keep it secret, eh? I'm smarter than that you know!"

"Godric!" cried Rowena, her embarrassment forgotten in her amazement. "You're here!"

"Of course I am!" Godric said, frowning. "It doesn't take a mind of yours to see that!"

"But you were in the Hospital Wing!"

"I know," he said indignantly. "Fancy letting me sleep there and wake up to find myself all alone! I've been searching the castle for another living soul, but there was only Peeves, and  _he_  tried to force me up a chimney! But where is everyone? Why are you dressed in such finery? Where is that music coming from? And … is that  _snow_  outside?"

* * *

 

The rest of the evening was as enjoyable a one as Merlin had experienced in a long time. Astonished at being told he had been in a coma for two months, Godric had nevertheless boisterously insisted on joining the ball, causing a delighted Helga to run to him and throw herself into her arms grinning broadly, all her promises of punishing him for his stupidity forgotten in view of her gratitude of him being awake. The students and teachers had cheered, while Salazar had rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like: "Here we go again."

The dancing continued to joyous laughter and signing, Godric dancing with all the female teachers and a good proportion of the students, despite still being in his night clothes, making the whole atmosphere of the party seem a little surreal.

Rowena consented to dance with Merlin, and he was delighted to find that she was as bad a dancer as he was; this was something one could evidently not learn out of a book. But he did not care, and they danced anyway, laughing unrestrainedly, Helena holding both their hands and trying to join in as best she could. Merlin had never seen Rowena looking so happy and carefree, shrieking with delight as she spun Helena around in her arms, her eyes shining with love for her.

Godric's booming laugh echoed around the hall, joking about his brush with death with the bear. Merlin knew he would have to severely chastise Godric for his severe lack of judgment, but he could not do it tonight. Tonight was a time of happiness.

The remaining days of the Christmas season were not wasted. Every day was met with more celebrating amongst the students, playing pranks on each other and singing songs loudly up and down the corridors to the annoyance of the portraits that lined the walls, and often Salazar as well. Even Peeves got into the spirit, starting food fights with the students and dropping huge piles of snowballs into the Great Hall at breakfast and then zooming off cackling.

Eventually however, Twelfth Night approached, and with it the Feast of Epiphany, the last day of the Christmas celebrations, and when everyone exchanged their gifts. He hadn't bought many, sending some food down to Elred and Hilda's from the Hogwarts kitchens to give them a feast he knew they would otherwise be unable to afford, and buying only small things for his other acquaintances. Tired of seeing him in old rags, but being assured by Helga that to give him clothes would be insulting, he had (with Helga's guidance on this very delicate matter) given Tenga a sort of toga made out of some new bed sheets, and embroidered with the Hogwarts Crest. Tenga's eyes had welled up when given the new uniform and he had bawled loudly, thanking Merlin so loudly and so intensely he might just have given him a fountain of gold. Merlin received many, and was shocked at how many friends he had. Hilda sent him some of her infamous baking and the other teachers seemed to have given him a book each for lack of knowing what else to give him. Godric gave him a new cloak lined with protective spells and enchantments ("for those nastier duels, you know?") and Salazar, rather predictably, had given him some potion ingredients. Helga had simply given him a kiss on the cheek and wished him all the wealth and happiness in the world, before pressing some of her home-make cakes into his hands with a sly wink. Rowena however, had nothing.

"I did not know what to give you," she admitted that night, as they met in her chambers, Helena long since having gone off to bed with the enchanted doll Merlin had given her. "And I would not settle for something sub-standard. You are still so mysterious to me."

"It doesn't matter," Merlin, smiling. "I got you something."

Her eyes lit up as he passed her a small package wrapped in blue cloth. She grinned widely when she unwrapped it to find a beautifully bound book with a bronze eagle embossed on the cover. She opened it eagerly, only to frown in disappointment.

"It is blank!" she said ruefully, flipping through the pages.

"Exactly," said Merlin, closing the book and pressing it into her hands. "Stop reading so many books by others, and write your own. Bring joy to others in the same way your own books have brought it to you."

She stared at him for a moment, biting her lip nervously, most uncharacteristically. "You think I am truly able to write my own book?"

"Of course," he said. "Any idiot can write a book. But you are better than that. Share your knowledge with the world. Let this book as well as this castle serve as the legacy you so desire. Let them hear your voice, let your wisdom last for eternity in these pages."

She was silent for a moment, her fingers tracing the eagle on the front of the book, thinking intensely. Finally, she placed the book on the table beside her bed, and grinned. "Who am I to argue with my teacher?" she said teasingly. "I shall write my book, so long as you agree to resume my lessons in Old Magic as quickly as possible. I have been incredibly bored waiting for Godric to recover."

"I promise," Merlin said, and moved closer, bending his head down to meet hers. Their kiss was long and filled with far more emotion than Merlin usually let loose. He found himself pulling her closer to him, desperate for closeness. She was no less eager, and soon her fingers were entangled in his hair and she was above him, kissing him far more passionately than usual, leaving him quite breathless.

They fell back on the bed together, and lay there for a moment, Merlin searching her face, pink as usual from exertion. He trailed his fingers over her features, committing them to memory. For how many more years would he be allowed this? How long before the Old Religion called him away?

Here they were, at the beginning of a new year, but for how long would this bliss last? How long before he was back to the slow torture of his own immortality?

"What are you thinking of?" she murmured, smiling at him, just inches away on the bed, letting her own soft fingers run along the contours of his own face, setting his skin alight with desire as she did so.

He looked at her face, fighting his desire for her with his pain of knowing what would become of them. She did not deserve this. He may be being punished for allowing Arthur to die, but she would one day suffer too. The world was not fair.

"Nothing but you," he said instead, drawing her face closer. "And I've just thought of something that will make up for you not getting me a present."

She raised her eyebrows, and laughed, and their lips met once again, and the rest of that night, no more thoughts of leaving entered Merlin's mind. Instead, he truly did think only of her. That night, was the first night of true happiness he had known since Arthur's death. And he hoped there would be many more of them.


	33. Leaving

And so, after that first Christmas at Hogwarts, Merlin came to find himself settling into a routine that varied very little for the next several years. After giving Godric a good talking to about his reckless behaviour in the Forbidden Forest, he had observed new life within him. Gone was most of his stupidity and recklessness, and, tempered with a new found wisdom after his humbling experience, Godric became a more than able student. Salazar however never failed to bring it up whenever he could.

All the Founders continued studying Old Magic, each proficient in their own areas, using their spells to improve the protection around the school, to perform feats of magic that even Merlin was impressed with. Salazar invented dozens of new potions, aided by his magic, as well as several spells such as the Flame-Freezing Charm Merlin had helped him to perfect in the weeks after his family's murder. Helga was renowned for her healing abilities, and often held talks with wizards and witches across the country who were interested in building magical hospitals, inspired by her healing touch. Godric started a whole new style of Dueling, becoming renowned across the land for his abilities, and for his tireless plight to erase prejudice against Muggle-Borns, as well as his practice of harnessing a boat to the Giant Squid and crossing the lake in record time. And Rowena, she, as ever, excelled in everything she did. That first book her had given her turned into dozens, and soon the library was stacked with her own personal works, prompting a flush of pride on her cheeks every time she looked at them.

They never revealed their Old Magic to anyone, not even the other teachers or family members, though many wondered and begged them to reveal their secrets. Merlin was adamant on that.

"No one else can know," he had told them many a time. "It isn't right."

"But why then did you teach us?" Rowena had asked indignantly. "Why teach us if this knowledge is to be forgotten?"

"It won't be forgotten," he had said. "I promise that."

"It should be recorded," Salazar had argued, "for future generations. What was the point in learning it at all if it is to remain a secret?"

"I'm not sure," Merlin had answered honestly. "But I know that somehow, one day, all this will make sense. One day the Old Religion shall return, and teaching the four of you will have had some part in it that I cannot yet explain. It may not be for many centuries, but it will be important, and you have to trust me in this. This magic is powerful and dangerous in the wrong hands; it must not be used again until it is ready to return. All memory of it must be erased when the four of you die."

They were not happy with this, but they seemed to take his word for it. He wasn't sure it made sense to him either. But consulting with Kilgharrah and Aithusa had told him that this knowledge was not yet ready for the whole world, and that everything would make sense in the end. As much as he hated the situation, he was forced to trust in it.

So, he just continued to teach them, delighted with how far they progressed over several years. The school itself also flourished. Within five years the student population had more than quadrupled, with hundreds of children from all part of Britain and all backgrounds flocking to the castle for magical instruction, and watching such young minds grow and learn was incredibly satisfying to him. Even if it only was wand magic and not  _proper_  magic.

Hogwarts grew and grew, and soon the entire country was talking about it and desperate to send their own children here when the time came. Even the Wizards' Council kept its distance, relying on the Governors to ensure order was being maintained. Thankfully, the Governors had little influence, much to the Council's displeasure, and the school remained firmly in the hands of the Founders and continued to flourish.

Tomin rose through the school excelling at every turn, particularly proficient in Healing and Charms, and by the time he left Hogwarts after his seven years had expressed a desire to becoming a traveling Physician like Merlin, which he took as a personal compliment, even if Tomin was still incredibly shy around him. Hilda and Elred, who had by the end of Tomin's time at Hogwarts taken in several other orphaned children into their home were incredibly proud of him. Thanks to Elred's successful business and his status as one of the fairer minded Governors, he and Hilda soon became the principal residents of the village, almost always now called Hogsmeade in reference to the original joke name of the inn. From humble beginnings, they had risen to become fairly well off, but always shared their wealth, taking in several other orphan children and caring for them as much as they could, sending them off to school in their turn. Helga too continued rescuing house-elves and orphaned magical children and bringing them to Hogsmeade and the castle whenever she could, earning a reputation for being the kindest soul in the land.

Helena too showed her worth. Proving herself just as intelligent and capable as her mother, by the age of six she was reading book after book on far off lands and adventures, poring over old maps and declaring her intention to visit as many of the places she had read about as possible. By the age of ten she was fluent in English, Gaelic, Latin, Greek and could read Ancient Runes, which her mother had now began teaching in the school after her many lessons with Merlin. Merlin was sure the Ravenclaw family and its House would be known for many years as one of the most intelligent of its kind. Her happiness and inquisitive spirit was not quenched, and Merlin often saw her running around the grounds chasing after magical creatures and peering into the lake. Even before she had her first wand she had an unusually proficient control of her own magic. However, it was not the magic of the Old Religion, however powerful it was, and Rowena had been exceptionally disappointed not to be able to teach her daughter the wonders of the Old Religion.

Merlin watched all of this going on, letting himself be truly happy for the first time in centuries. He ignored the voices in his mind warning him that this bliss could not last and simply enjoyed every year as it came, trying desperately to forget the moment that he knew was not too far away. His days with the Founders, in particular Rowena, and his friendships with Helena, Elred and Hilda brought him a relief to the pain in his heart since Arthur had died. But they were mortal.

Around eight years after he had arrived at the castle, he noticed small signs that boded ill. Salazar became ever more paranoid about the Muggle-Born students. He begged Godric and the others to regulate the students, putting them through stringent tests to determine their loyalty to their Muggle relations and to keep close tabs on them at all times, but Godric absolutely refused to single out those students. Salazar often went into dark moods and locked himself away in the dungeons, where not even Helga could reach out to him.

A dark foreboding swept over the castle, as Salazar grew ever more and more determined to keep watch over the Muggle-Born students. Merlin felt a creeping cold enter into his heart. He knew it was not long away.

Eventually, in the eighth year of his stay at the castle, he was sitting down by the lake on Midsummer's Eve looking out over the lake, and he knew. The Old Religion had spoken to him.

He froze, and a pain tore through him more acute than he could have imagined. His insides turned to ice and a wave of despair washed over him.  _No … not now …_

He couldn't leave now! Salazar was getting unreasonable, the Board of Governors was once again sticking its nose in and things were increasingly delicate … he was needed here!

Helena was about to begin her first year of Hogwarts; he could not abandon her now, she was so excited.

He hung his head in his hands and let his emotions overcome him, shaking intensely and feeling tears of fury sting at his eyes. He  _hated_  the Old Religion!

After an age, he looked back up again, a grim acceptance seeping through him. He had known this day was coming. He had risked getting close to them all, he had chosen a few years of happiness, but it was only borrowed time. He had known this would come.

Why then did he feel so much pain?

He stood up slowly, his legs trembling a little, looking out across the beauty of the grounds. How was he ever to say goodbye to these people? How could he willingly walk away from the only friends he had had in over three centuries?

Why did he have to leave? Why was the Old Religion so cruel?

He shook his head, trying to clear his head of these thoughts. He knew why. These people, this place it was mortal. He had to do as he always had. He had to move on, hide his true self, wait for the day when the Old Religion would return. Whatever he did, he could never spend the rest of his life with these people. Would leaving now be any worse than watching them all die?

He started walking towards the village, his legs feeling like lead, and a numbness seeping through him. He would say goodbye in person, he owed them all that. Then … then he'd leave … before the next morning. This would be his last night at Hogwarts.

The Old Religion was final.

After an age of walking, he entered Hogsmeade. It was now twice the size it had been when Merlin first arrived eight years ago, with dozens of families now living here in peace. He nodded to his acquaintances as they passed. He entered the inn and spoke a few words to his friends there, Nessa the barmaid, who had taught him how to speak to Rowena in her own language. He did not tell them explicitly that he was leaving, but they saw a look of something in his eye that worried them. He did not linger, he could not.

Then, he began the weary walk to Elred and Hilda's house, now expanded and more comfortable than the one roomed shack they had once invited Merlin to share out of the goodness of their hearts.

Hilda welcomed him warmly, and soon shooed the half a dozen children out of their home to play in the street whilst she Merlin and Elred sat down to talk about the school, the village, the youngest child and her new imaginary friend and other trivial matters. He found he could not touch the freshly baked cakes she placed before him. She noticed his melancholy.

"What is wrong, Emrys?" she asked, peering into his face. "You are not well?"

"I am perfectly well, thank you," he said, looking away from her. "How is Tomin getting along?"

"Excellent!" announced Elred, and he shook out a letter and read from it slowly and carefully, never having mastered the art of reading quickly despite Tomin and Merlin's best efforts to teach him. "He has reached … Perth, you know, where the King lives, and he's making a good living healing Muggles and the witches and wizards that are around there. He's very happy."

"Good," Merlin said quietly. "I'm only sorry I could not say goodbye personally. You must tell him how proud I am of how far he has come the next time you see him."

"Why can you not tell him yourself when next he returns?" Hilda asked. "He has promised to visit around Christmas."

"Because when Tomin returns," Merlin began painfully, "I will no longer be here."

They stared at him. "What has happened?" Elred asked. "Have you had some quarrel with the Founders? Has Lord Salazar-"

"No," Merlin said quickly. "It is nothing like that. It's …"

He broke off, unsure how to explain to them the urge that he felt, the instincts inside of him. How could they understand what he himself did not fully understand?

Hilda however nodded. "You told me many years ago, that one day you would leave," she said gravely, watching him with a stricken expression. "Has that day arrived?"

He nodded, unable to say anything more to her.

She sniffed, and looked down at the table, blinking fiercely. Eventually however, she stood up and rounded the table, drawing him into a tight hug which he surrendered to.

"Then I am glad to have known you, Emrys,' she said tearfully. "Our family owes you so much. I hope you can find happiness wherever you go."

 _I doubt it, I have an eternity of misery ahead of me,_  Merlin thought, but this would only upset her further, so he was silent.

After several minutes, he stood up, trying to control himself, and looked straight to Elred, who was looking solemn.

"Thank you," he said, glancing between him and Hilda. "Thank you for all your kindness over the years. You cannot know how much it has meant to me. I shall never forget you."

"Nor we you," said Elred. "I only wish you need not leave."

 _As do I,_ Merlin thought.

"Look after that brood of yours," he said instead. "They'll cause you no end of trouble. Take care of yourselves."

And before he could change his mind, he turned and he left through the door to the house, and headed back up the street of the village, his heart racing. He did not look back.

He sighed heavily. How much worse would it be with the Founders?

As if reading his mind, a voice called him from behind.

"Emrys!"

Godric was hurrying up the street towards him, beaming broadly, lugging several heavy packages. "We've finally got that contract with the apothecary! Can you believe it? No more haggling with that snooty old warlock! Here, help me carry these, they're new samples apparently. Perhaps these will improve Salazar's mood."

Merlin took a few of the packages, and observed a spasm of worry cross Godric's features as he spoke of Salazar. Once again, Merlin questioned the wisdom of leaving so soon.

They walked back to the castle, Godric rambling on as usual about doings in the village and the amount of duels he'd been challenged to that he had no doubt of winning. Merlin listened silently, a growing sadness in his heart. Godric was so like Arthur; it would be like losing him all over again.

He carried the packages up to Gryffindor Tower and deposited it them in the main living area, while Godric began to sort through them. Merlin sank down on one of the comfy chairs by the fire, wondering how to begin the awful conversation.

"Not helping, Emrys?" Godric asked, frowning. "You really should. I'll just get it all wrong again and Helga will be furious."

Merlin smiled, seeing his way in. "When will you finally admit your feelings for her?"

There was a smashing sound as Godric dropped a potion vial, and a horrible stench filled the room, but Godric did not notice. Instead, he flushed as red as his beard.

"I-I-I" he stammered, looking shocked.

Merlin laughed. "You cannot hide it from me, Godric. I have watched you skirt around your feelings for eight years. She knows it as well as I do, she is just waiting for you to pluck up the courage to tell her. Funny, you can willingly go and poke a sleeping dragon but cannot admit your love for a woman who evidently loves you back."

Godric blushed even deeper. He shifted awkwardly. "You think … I mean, you believe she … that she …"

"I have no doubt of it," Merlin grinned. "The house-elves actually have bets on how long it will take the two of you to get married. Tenga tells me the stakes have gotten pretty high."

Godric spluttered indignantly. " _Marriage?_  I- I-I -"

"Don't wait any longer, Godric," Merlin said, his amusement evaporating. "You never know how much time you have left. How fleeting these moments are."

Godric's furious blush faded as he stared at Merlin, a look of comprehension dawning there. He shook his head slightly, as though hoping he had misunderstood.

"So the day has finally come?" he asked, his voice dead.

Merlin just bowed his head.

Godric sighed heavily and sank down into a chair. He looked into the fire for a few moments, thinking, his face lined with sadness.

"I shall miss you," he said finally. "Now more than ever what with Salazar-"

He broke off and sighed, running his hand over his face. "Could you not stay? At least until all this is resolved?"

"I cannot," Merlin said, though wishing the opposite. "The Old Religion has told me that it is time. And you know yourself how strong those instincts are. I must obey them … even if I have no wish to."

Godric glanced at him. "If you will be as unhappy as we shall be, then why must it be this way?"

"Nothing will make sense until its conclusion," Merlin said, staring into the fire.

"Will I ever see you again?"

Merlin hung his head and closed his eyes. "Probably not."

Godric nodded slowly.

"Then I wish you all the success for the future," he said heavily, still looking miserable. Then he stood up and crossed the room, and rummaged around a chest of drawers before withdrawing something and passing it to Merlin. "Here," he said gruffly. "So you do not forget me, or the happy times we had here. It belonged to my grandfather."

It was a small potions chest carved of expensive wood, and engraved with a magnificent lion on the lid.

"Godric, I can't-"

"Take it," he insisted, pushing it into his hands. "I never was much of a potion maker."

Merlin smiled and traced the shape of the lion. "I am no Gryffindor."

"Nonsense," Godric dismissed him. "In fact, I would say you are more of one than I am. You are braver than I, not in deeds perhaps, but in strength of mind. I am not sure I would have the courage and fortitude to do what you have done. I could not willingly leave a place I love and people that I love for the greater good of the world. Take it, you deserve it."

Merlin nodded, and put the small chest into a pocket. "I shall treasure it. And if ever I find someone who embodies the true spirit of your House, I shall relinquish it most willingly."

He stood and prepared to leave, turning at the last moment.

"Take care, Godric," he said. "Don't run after too many dragons, now. And do not miss your chance with Helga. I know from experience how lonely life can be."

Godric nodded. "Farewell, Emrys."

Unable to say anything further, Merlin turned and exited Gryffindor Tower for what he believed would be the last time.

He headed down the staircase down the dungeons, his burdens only growing heavier, as though the gift of the potions chest was weighing him down. He twisted and turned in the dark passageways, stopping before a brightly painted door that he knocked on, and waited patiently.

After a few minutes, Helga answered the door and smiled brightly when she saw who it was.

"Emrys! I-"

But her face fell when she saw his expression.

"You're leaving aren't you?" she asked, her face grief-stricken. "Come in."

He sat with her for a while before the fire in her chambers. He felt almost unable to say anything to her. She seemed equally as unable to speak.

"Helga-" he finally said, his voice strangled.

"Don't," she said, and moved to the seat beside him and pulled him into a soft embrace. "Please. Don't try to explain."

He hugged her back, fighting the tumult of emotion within him. He felt a wetness at his chest and realised she was crying silently, he felt his own composure begin to break.

Eventually, he pulled back, and rested his hands on her arms.

"Do not grieve," he told her. "You are too pure for that. We both knew this was coming. You are one of the most beautiful souls I have ever known. Don't ever change, Helga. Don't ever forget your kindness."

"I shan't," she answered, her tears gone and a determination in her eyes. "I swear to you."

He smiled, and brushed her cheek with his hand. "Good. I foresee great happiness in your future, Helga. I think Godric may finally end this stalemate between you."

Helga smiled, and her eyes sparkled. "What did you say to him?" she asked, as she walked him to the door.

"Only that he had better get a move on," he said. "Loneliness is the greatest curse of humanity."

"And you will be lonely again," Helga said, looking at him in sympathy. "I saw it when you first arrived. You were longing for purpose, for friends because you had spent so long out in the dark. But now you must forsake it once more, and I cannot tell why."

He was silent, and Helga hugged him again.

"Promise me you will try to make new friends? Don't torture yourself as you did before. You are too good a man to live in misery."

He hugged her back, saddened as he knew what she asked was almost impossible.

"I shall try," he said, and before he could change his mind, he left the room.

He walked several feet along the corridor before breathing out heavily, weak with emotion. The thought of never seeing any of them again …

But he had to be strong. He had to do this. He could not fail.

Just a little way ahead, he stopped and knocked on another door.

"Come in."

He entered to find Salazar sitting at a desk in his chambers, surrounded by books and potions. He glanced up when Merlin entered with a small scowl.

"Emrys, if you've come to try and talk me out of-"

"No," Merlin said. "I just want you to know that I wish more than anything you find the peace you desire. That you can end this long hatred and help to build a future without prejudice and this need you see for segregation. I hope you can overcome your bitterness and forsake the dark thoughts you have been having of late. I hope you can save yourself from this destruction, Salazar."

Salazar watched him, his face expressionless. He put down his quill, and sighed. "You are leaving then? I had thought you would change your mind."

"I cannot," Merlin answered. "Even though it pains me to see the situation I will leave you in."

"Do not worry about me, Emrys," Salazar said wryly. "I am a cursed man, I always shall be. Do not feel bad on my account. You cannot change my mind."

"I hoped I could."

"And your sentiments are admirable," said Salazar, standing up to face him. "But I cannot share them, it is not in my nature." He paused here, and frowned, looking genuinely upset. "However, I wish you to know that I did come to regard you as a friend, despite our rocky beginning and our many disagreements. I shall miss your company, particularly when faced with Godric's idiocy."

Merlin laughed softly, and turned to leave.

"Do not destroy yourself, Salazar," he said, in one last address. "Do not destroy what you have built. Do not destroy these friendships. They are worth more than you realise."

"Goodbye, Emrys," Salazar said, and Merlin knew then in his heart of hearts that Salazar would not listen.

With a great effort, Merlin turned and left, and hurried back up into the entrance Hall. Thoughts of Salazar and his vendetta lay heavily on his mind. What was the Old Religion thinking, asking him to leave at a time like this? Was Salazar to be doomed to a fate of eternal embitterment? Who knew what he could do in such a state …

But he pushed these thoughts out of his mind. Everything that happened was for a reason, and he should trust that the right decision was being made, however uneasy it made him.

He raced up the marble staircase and to his quarters, where he shoved all his possessions into the old bags he had brought with him that day eight years ago. He shoved clothes, books and other possessions into his back in a resentful manner, still furious that he had to leave. When the room was bare, he sank down in his bed and stared straight ahead.

He had said goodbye to his dearest friends, who else now? Tenga had temporary summer employment with one of the teachers along with the other elves who were waiting for the term to start back. Merlin was sorry; he would have liked to say goodbye to him, who else had kept him so well-informed of the castle gossip, and dispelled the rumours about Merlin and Rowena by his request? He would miss him.

Now, there was only the hardest goodbye of all.

With a reluctance greater than he could have anticipated, he stood, and threw his small, magically expanded bag over his shoulder and left his chambers for the last time, walking slowly along the corridor as though trying to prolong the inevitable confrontation.

Eventually, he reached the door, with its eagle doorknocker. He did not even bother to knock; he was too well accustomed to this place to give any false sense of formality. Inside, sitting at a table surrounded by books and scribbling away on some parchment was Helena. She didn't even glance up when he entered.

He deposited his bag at his feet and smiled. "You do not begin school until September, Helena. There is no need for all this study."

"But I want to be the smartest one there!" Helena insisted, reading the book before her intently. "I would look a fool if I made some mistake when I am supposed to be the daughter of the most intelligent Founder!"

"No one could ever say you are unintelligent," said Merlin fondly, moving closer, and reading over her shoulder. "Just … don't let your studies overwhelm you. Some things are more important."

Helena shook her head, and instead pulled another book down. "I have a lot to live up to," she said, almost wearily. "My mother expects me to be great."

"And you are," Merlin said, planting a soft kiss on top of her head. "Remember that, always. Do not forget humility."

She shook her head, and kept on reading, still not looking up, or realising that Merlin was saying goodbye. Perhaps this would be easier, Merlin thought. Still, the guilt almost overwhelmed him. Helena had spent most of her life with him, practically being raised by him. How would she adjust without him?

He was spared any more of these dilemmas when Rowena came down the staircase from her chambers. She froze as she saw the bag at Merlin's feet, and she paled.

"No," she said faintly, staring at him with wide eyes. "No."

Merlin couldn't speak. He could barely breathe. The way she was looking at him.

"Mother?" Helena asked, frowning. "What is the matter?"

But Rowena just turned and headed back up the staircase, and Merlin crossed the room to follow her. "Stay here, Helena."

He raced up the staircase and followed her into her bedchambers. She was standing facing the window, her whole body tense. He felt a pain greater than anything else pierce his heart.

"Rowena …"

"You can't leave!" she said, turning to face him, and Merlin was shocked to see her with tears in her eyes. She never cried.

"I must—"

"No!" she shouted, her eyes wide. "Why must you? You have always kept your secrets, you have always kept this mystery, but why? Why can you not tell me after everything we have shared? Do I not deserve it?"

"It is not my decision-:"

"Spare me," she snapped, pacing the room. "It is not logical! I refuse to believe it!"

"You must," he said, stepping closer, only to have her withdraw. "You have always known this day was coming."

"Yes," she said, her voice emotional. "But I had hoped to change your mind. It makes no sense! Why must you go?"

"I don't want to," he began, his own throat restricting. "Believe me, I don't want to."

"Then don't," she said, coming closer, and holding onto him. "You have a life here, together we accomplish great things."

"You have learned as much as I can teach you," he said, staring at her. "I can do no more."

"So that means you must leave?"

"No, something else," he said, unable to tear his eyes away from her watery ones.

"Then stay," and Merlin was astonished to hear the pleading tone in the voice of this woman who prided herself so fiercely on her intellect and independence. "Please. We are better together. Do not deny it."

"I won't try to," he said, feeling the pain as he looked at her. "I … I never thought I could have such happiness with you. But …"

"The Old Religion," finished Rowena, her eyes suddenly hard. "Why must you follow it like this? Why not take charge of your own life rather than follow it blindly?"

"Because it  _is_  my life," he said, trying to make her see. "I am  _from_  the Old Religion, it is who I am. It has given me life, and I have my destiny to fulfill. This was only my first stop along the way to my destiny. I cannot falter, nor tarry here, as much as I may wish. My life is not my own."

She blinked, and frowned. "Your destiny is in the future? How can you be sure what it is?"

"Because I feel it deep within me," he said. "I must wait for it, however long that may be."

"Why not wait with me?" she asked, gently. "You make me a better person. Do not destroy what we have."

"Because I could be waiting for centuries," Merlin said, before he could stop himself, and Rowena stepped back a look of shock on her face.

"What?"

He sighed heavily, he hadn't meant to reveal that. But she deserved to know at least some of the truth.

"I …" he began, uncertainly. "This destiny that has been granted to me …. I cannot die until it is completed, however far into the future it may be."

"You are immortal?" she asked, wonder in her face.

"More or less," he said bitterly. "It is my duty to keep the knowledge of the Old Religion safe until it is ready to return to the world. I do not know whether that day will be tomorrow, or in a hundred years for now, or a thousand. I cannot know, and it would be unfair to you for me to remain."

Her eyes lit with a sudden fire. "And why not?" she asked fiercely. "Why should we both spend miserable years apart? Make the most of the time that we have! If you are doomed to waiting forever, at least take comfort from the years that you can spend with me."

"You don't understand," said Merlin, aware just how much she was tempting him. "You would grow old, I would not."

"I don't care!"

"I do!" he shouted back, feeling himself shaking. "Don't ask me to watch you die, Rowena! Don't ask me to go through that!"

"But you would ask me to live on without you?" she asked tearfully. "In the knowledge of all that we have lost? You would ask me to move on whilst you wander the lands awaiting a destiny that may never come?"

He was silent, and she nodded in victory. Merlin felt his resolve weakening.

"Rowena," he said, taking her hand in his. "I have been here before. I have been forced to stand and watch as friends withered and died from old age. I thought I would die from the pain of it. Do not ask me to go through that again, not with you …"

She blinked rapidly, and looked down at her feet, trying to control herself.

"It is unfair."

"It is," he said, stepping closer, and putting a hand gently beneath her chin. "I can't live through that pain again, Rowena. Let us part now and live for the future and the hope that lies there. Your school will live on, and I swear to always protect it, and your legacy."

She shook, and clutched at his hands, trying to master her emotions. One tear trickled down her cheek, the only one escaping the bonds she had tried to place on them. Finally, she looked back into his eyes, a new strength there.

"When do you leave?" she asked.

"Before first light," he said.

She nodded. "Good."

And she reached up and drew him down into their most passionate embrace yet. He clutched at her, desperate for closeness, for this last night together, and she was no less eager. Merlin forgot all thoughts of leaving in his quest to explore every last inch of her for the last time. Never had her kisses tasted so sweet, her caresses inflamed so much passion. They moulded together as one, moving together in one fluid motion taking full advantage of this encounter, their last. He forgot his destiny, he forgot his pain, she was here, and so was he.

Hours later, as darkness fell around them, they lay together in her bed, she resting against him, neither speaking, just breathing steadily, well aware that every second that passed was spelling out their last moments together in some cruel control.

He ran his fingers up and down her arm, remembering the softness of her skin, the sweet scent of her hair and the soft sound of her steady breathing.

"Helena shall miss you," she murmured, entwining her hands with his, staring out of the window of her chambers.

"I know," said Merlin, his heart heavy. "But she will be fine. Children are more resilient than we give them credit for."

"You were like a father to her."

Merlin shifted uncomfortably; despite his best efforts to remain only a friendly uncle figure to Helena, like Godric and Salazar, he could not deny that it had become something more than that.

"She will be fine," he said, trying to convince himself more than anything. "She will have memories of me."

"Memories are not always enough," Rowena said. "Sometimes we need something more permanent."

"I know," he said. "I have only a few memories of my own father, he died before I could get to know him. I have only one thing that belonged to him, and somehow that makes me feel closer to him."

"What is that?"

He sat up a little, and held out his hand. " _Onbregdan,"_  he said, his eyes flashing gold in the dark room. A few seconds later, from his luggage downstairs, shot a small carved figurine.

"This," he said, passing it gently to her, she examining it curiously. "He carved it for me, just before he died."

She held it in her hands almost sadly. "It is never enough though, is it?" she asked. "Heirlooms such as these give us a window to the past, but never enough."

She passed it back to him. Then, sitting up, and drawing a blue robe around her, she crossed the room. She bent over a chest, and pulled out a small box from within, blowing the dust from it. She crossed back to the bed and sat beside him, clutching the box to her almost hesitatingly. Then, she held it out to him.

"Here," she said. "It is all I have of my mother, other than a few fragmentary memories."

"And a love of reading," he said, but he took the box from her almost reverently.

He opened it, and within, lying on some blue cloth was a beautiful diadem. He breathed out in appreciation, and lifted it to have a better look. It shimmered in the starlight that fell through the window, and sparkled beautifully. He noticed some writing along the headpiece, and peered closer.

"' _Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure,_ '" he read.

"It was the motto of my mother's house," Rowena explained. "It is a mantra I have kept to my entire life, ever since I was old enough to read the words."

He nodded. "And this explains a whole lot about you."

He examined it a little more. "Why have I never seen you wear it? Even at the Yule Balls?"

"I did not feel worthy of it," she said, sighing. "My mother, she was so intelligent, so revered … I felt like an imposter."

He laughed softly. "She must have been wise indeed to inspire such humility in someone like  _you_."

She frowned, and he laughed again. He held it loosely in his hands, suddenly struck with an idea.

He held it in his left hand and held his right over it, summoning powerful magic to him, feeling it bubbling beneath his skin. Sensing the massive surge of power from him, Rowena gasped, but Merlin kept it up.

" _Forgiefan se bora_ _ēce_ _wīsdōm_ _. Foriefan_ _ānweald_ _ac angiet. Giefu_ _þās_ _bēagian."_

His eyes burned golden for a full minute as he cast his spell, and when it was completed, the diadem sat in his hand, sparkling innocently as though nothing had happened.

"You should wear it," he said to her, turning to see her curious expression. "You are  _more_ than worthy of it."

And he reached out and placed it on her head, where it sat perfectly, illuminating the brightness of her eyes. She watched him closely.

"What did you do?"

He smiled. "I enchanted it. Now, instead of merely offering words of wisdom, it shall offer wisdom itself. It will enhance your thoughts, and it will guide you in times of need. Think of it as me being here to temper your intellect with true wisdom."

Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. Then she looked mildly insulted. "You think I need wisdom?"

"I think you need to remember everything that has changed since first we met," he said gravely, "and this will serve as that reminder. Do not forget. Knowledge is not wisdom. Even a lowly illiterate pig farmer can be wise. Never forget your life in pursuit of knowledge."

She looked at him, just looked at him with those wide and beautiful eyes of hers. They seemed to shimmer with emotion, and she nodded.

He smiled, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Do not forget me," he asked, almost pleadingly. "Think of me whenever you wear it. And then, when the time is right, give it to Helena. Then she too can remember me."

"I will," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I shall never forget.

She took the diadem from her head, and put it back in the case, leaning in and kissing Merlin, a soft and sweet kiss that betrayed none of the tempest of emotions she was experiencing.

She fell back, and once again took his hands, and looked down at them almost nervously. She seemed reluctant to speak. Finally, she met his eyes.

"What do you feel for me, Emrys?" she asked quietly. "Truly."

He knew what she was asking. He knew what she was wanting him to say. But he could not. The past eight years, they had both purposefully avoided saying it. Perhaps because they thought if they did not admit it, the moment of parting would be easier. That if they denied it, their relationship could be passed off as fleeting and casual, and make separation less painful. Either way, neither had said it, and Merlin could not bring himself to now; to say those three words that she desired, even if he meant them, meant he could not leave her. If he said it, the pain would be too much to bear.

He sighed, and was silent a long time. He raised both her hands to his lips and kissed them softly. "What I feel for you," he said, fixing his eyes on hers, "is more than I can ever tell you."

She nodded, hearing the unspoken words there. Nothing more needed to be said.

The next morning dawned too early for Merlin. He rose reluctantly and dressed. Rowena lay there, and pretended to be asleep, but Merlin was well aware she had slept not a wink, as neither had he. Perhaps this would be easier.

Once dressed, he crossed to her side of the bed and crouched before her. Her breathing quickened, but still she feigned sleep.

"Goodbye, Rowena," he said quietly, his voice almost breaking, and he placed a soft and lingering kiss on her forehead.

And then he turned, and he left.

He travelled through the silent school, his heart racing and feeling almost weak to be leaving behind the first life he had managed to build for himself in centuries. Would he ever walk these corridors again? By this point he was almost certain he would miss Peeves.

He left the castle and crossed the lawns in the fresh summer air. He stopped by the lake, and looked out over it for a last glimpse of the Giant Squid. He spotted the bank where the dragon had attacked Godric, where he had often walked with Rowena, where the hippogriff had escaped and Helga had been the only one to tame it …

Turning back, he took one long last look at the castle, taking in the sight of it and committing it to memory. Would he ever return?

As his last act, he waved his hand In front of his face before the castle and muttered: " _H_ _ȳd_ _mīn cweþan ewa"_

His eyes burned, and outwardly, nothing happened. Merlin had erased his name from the school records, no Emrys would ever be recorded by Hogwarts or by the Wizard's Council as ever having assisted in the Founding of the school, and none ever would.

He was now nothing but a ghost.

He looked one last time. "You were right, Kilgharrah," he murmured. "I truly cannot escape my destiny, even if I want to."

His eyes flicked one last time to Ravenclaw Tower. He almost thought he saw a pale figure standing at one of the windows.

"Goodbye," he said, and the next moment, he had summoned a great whirlwind, which whisked him away and took him far away from Hogwarts.

His time here was over.


	34. A New Purpose

What Merlin did in those years after leaving Hogwarts, he barely knew. Gone was the colour and happiness in his life. He wandered from village to village, almost blinded to everything, feeling empty and hollow. He woke up to see strange new faces, he drank in strange taverns, slept in unfamiliar inns and sold his remedies to strangers. He was back to the existence he had known in the centuries after Arthur's death. His brief time in the sunlight was gone, and all he could foresee for himself was pain and misery.

When was the last time he had laughed? The last time he had held a friendly conversation with someone? He was back in his own personal torture. The nightmares of Arthur and Camelot, banished during his eight years at Hogwarts were back with a vengeance.

Eventually, it became too much. Every village he passed through he caught snatches of conversation about the evils of witchcraft, the evils of Muggles, the wonders of Hogwarts … he could not escape it at all.

He crossed the great channel and onto the Continent, intending to travel for several years to stave away the inevitable monotony that his life would become. He wanted no reminders of his life at Hogwarts, he didn't want to risk meeting the Founders or hearing their names spoken again.

So that was how he lived his life for a good few years, travelling on the Continent through unfamiliar and often hostile lands, picking up new languages, discovering new philosophies, new healing herbs, a great many things. The only thing he could not discover, was peace.

Ever the reminders of Hogwarts stuck with him. Every time he saw a night sky, he imagined Rowena peering up at the stars and mapping their positions. Every time he saw a magical duel, or a Muggle jousting match, he thought of Godric and wondered whether he had won or lost any of his own duels. Every time he saw something unique and fascinating, he thought of how Helena's eyes would have lit up to explore and learn more about it. Every time he learned a new healing technique from exotic travelers from the east and south, he thought of how much he longed to share it with Helga. Every time he encountered prejudice between Muggles and wizards he thought of Salazar, and wondered how he had fared.

Had he overcome his prejudice and found the peace he desired? How was Hogwarts coping? Had Helga and Godric ever gotten married? How had Helena got on at school?

Eventually, he had to return, he had to know something.

It was against his better judgment, but he headed back to Britain after almost ten years of foreign travels, back to his homeland. He knew he could not go back to them, could not influence them in any way, but he needed to know how they were. Even if he had to watch from a distance as they grew old, the pain of not knowing was greater than the pain of being so near, yet so far.

He found his way to London, and found refuge in an inn there. It was a place magical people tended to congregate, and the Muggles chose to turn a blind eye to it, so long as the witches and wizards that frequented the establishment kept to themselves. Several magical shops were also nearby, and Muggles avoided the area if they could. It was London's unofficial magical ghetto.

He sat in the common area with a tankard of ale that he barely touched. He watched each and every person that entered, searching for information. He could easily find the information he desired by asking the barkeep or one of the other patrons, but no, he needed to be more subtle than that. He naturally shied away from drawing attention to himself.

Instead, he listened in on the many conversations that were being whispered around the rooms. He took a room in the inn, and visited the common area every evening, hoping that the information he sought would come to him.

Conversations were always grim. People exchanged news about the persecutions that were happening up and down the country, discussing the state of the Muggle politics and how they would affect themselves, telling stories of raiders from across the seas, of battles, bloodshed and increasing Muggle hostility. It wasn't pleasant conversation, but Merlin persisted.

One night, just as he was thinking about finally striking up a conversation of his own, what he desired finally came about.

Two elderly warlocks sat at a table near to him and began their conversation. A combination of drunkenness, and deafness on the part of the two men soon meant that their conversation was more or less audible to everyone in the room. Merlin at first dismissed their warmongering stories, but soon listened intently as a familiar name reached his ears.

"Pollux has tried take over that school again," one man complained to the other. Merlin immediately sat up a little straighter, his heart thumping.

"Like he'll ever succeed," the other man snorted. "That Board of Governors are kidding themselves. They don't wield enough power to influence anything at Hogwarts."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Edgar," said the other man. "Half the people on that Board are wealthy, and the other poor as church mice. It wouldn't take much to convince them to do as they said. 'Specially since half of them have the support of the Wizards' Council and can offer as many threats as they like without worrying."

"The Founders wouldn't let that happen."

"The Founders don't have a choice," said the first man. "I tell you, those Governors won't be nothing but trouble for the school. They don't want Muggle-Borns in that school, and I promise you that one day they'll succeed in getting what they want. The Founders want the school separate from the government, but that'll never happen. The Governors will be a thorn in their side forever."

"But I thought they were supposed to protect the school-"

"Don't be such an idiot, Edgar," said the first man, looking at him as though he were a child. "The Governors were created as a compromise. So that the Wizards' Council wouldn't shut the school down on the spot. Everyone knows they're in the pockets of the nobility. Mark my words, the Wizards' Council will never rest until they get complete control of the school."

Merlin listened with held breath. He had known that the Governors would prove a difficulty, he had known almost from the beginning. The Founders had managed to control at least some of them, but after they were gone, what would happen? Had creating this Board been a bad idea?

Edgar was shaking his head however, a confident smile on his face. "The Founders are greater than them though! Have you heard about the sort of magic they can do?"

"The Founders won't last forever," warned the other man, shaking his head. "They're not immortal. The school will not be able to stay eternally impartial. The Board of Governors appoint Headteachers remember? After that Whitethorn man has had his day, what's to bet the next one will continue the Founder's philosophies?"

Edgar seemed to falter a little. "Such a pity though, isn't it? For the first time there was a group of people trying to end the hatred in the world, and in just a generation it'll be over. I hope those kids will have learned something at least. At least they'll have the benefits of tolerance."

"It won't last," said the other man. "Perhaps the memory will, and that is all we can hope for. I doubt it though. Those ideas won't last much longer. The Founders are crumbling from within. I mean, what can you expect after that debacle seven years ago?"

"You mean that business with Lord Salazar?"

Merlin was leaning in at this point, hanging on the edge of his seat, no longer trying to appear inconspicuous. Salazar? What had he done?  _Please no …_

"The Founders weren't as perfect as you think, Edgar," said the other man. "They had a falling out. Lord Godric and Lord Salazar turned against each other, even though they'd been as close as brothers. Lord Salazar stormed out the castle and hasn't returned since. He wants nothing more to do with it apparently. All those good and righteous morals were a front. He is as prejudiced as the ones he was fighting against. He demanded the Founders chuck all the Muggle-Borns out the school, or at least, limit the number they admit and keep tabs on them. Some people say he was hatching some plan to set a monster on them if they betrayed the school. Absolutely cracked he was. Everyone thinks of the Founders as saints, but he was one of them, and look how he turned out. There's never going to be peace. Even the ones supposed to be promoting it and changing the world for the better can't agree!"

"Did he ever believe in it though? I mean, why go to the trouble of building the school if he hated the concept of peace anyway?"

"Word is, he went a bit mad," came the reply. "Lost the plot. Completely paranoid, and who can blame him after what happened to his family? He and Gryffindor had some big duel, and Slytherin was told to get out. It shook them all up, I can tell you that. Of course, now all the bigots on the Wizards' Council seem to worship him, and want all their kids put into his House at the school, even though just twenty years ago they were worst enemies. Time can change a person, and not for the better. Gryffindor and Slytherin haven't spoken since. If even the Founders can't reconcile their differences, what hope do the rest of us have?"

The man paused here to drink, and Merlin fell back, almost weak with guilt. He should not have left Hogwarts. He should have stayed and helped them sort out their differences. How bad had Salazar gotten that Godric would duel him? They were brothers in all but blood. How could a friendship such as theirs go so badly wrong?

He had been right. Salazar would never change his views. How had the school suffered? He thought of Helga, and Rowena, Helena and Godric … how had they coped after Salazar's departure? It made him sick to his stomach to think about it. Their magic was tied together. They were linked by the Old Religion in ways that even Merlin did not understand. How could Salazar have left? How could he have abandoned every good feeling, everything that he was?

Was this what the Old Religion had intended for him? Merlin had thought his mission had been to save him, had all his work been in vain? How could the Old Religion want this man's suffering and hatred to continue? Was all that work towards peace futile now?

The man was speaking again, and Merlin leaned in to listen once more, though despair seeped through every inch of his body, and he dreaded hearing more.

"But the other three are still there, aren't they?" said Edgar doubtfully. "They'll keep the school going. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor won't stand for discrimination in the school, will they? And Ravenclaw was married to a Muggle once, wasn't she?"

"That's not the point," said the other man. "Slytherin's departure left them weaker than before. Slytherin was the brains and cunning of the school. He was politically minded in a way none of the rest of them were. They're lost without him."

"What about Ravenclaw though?" asked Edgar. "I heard she was supposed to be smart, even if she is a Celt."

"Haven't you heard?" the man asked, sounding surprised. He lowered his voice, and Merlin almost pulled a muscle in his neck straining to hear his next words. "The news is, Lady Rowena hasn't long left to live."

Something cold dropped into Merlin's stomach, and he froze, reeling in shock. He was so caught up in the storm of his own emotions, he almost missed the rest of the conversation.

"What's wrong with her?"

"No one knows," said the man, almost smiling, as though the news of a dying woman was something to look gleeful about. "A sudden deterioration of health that no one can explain. Even Hufflepuff can't cure a disease of this kind."

"What kind?"

"They say she's dying of a broken heart," said the man, his eyes gleaming.

Merlin wasn't breathing, so desperate was he to hear more.

"A broken heart? People don't die of that, Oswald! What has she got to be so broken hearted about? She's been a widow for almost twenty years, Slytherin left seven years ago! Is she that delicate?"

"Oh, it's nothing to do with that," said Oswald. "You've heard the rumours of the mysterious man she used to be  _friendly_  with, if you know what I mean. She's been melancholy ever since he left, nearly ten years ago now. Never got over it of you ask me, and then Slytherin left of course. But the real problem is that daughter of hers."

 _Helena?_   _What happened to her?_

Oswald didn't keep Merlin in suspense much longer.

"She's vanished," he said, enjoying the look of surprise in Edgar's eyes. "Yeah, she lived at the castle, even after she left the school, rejecting every suitor that came her way. None of them were good enough for her apparently. She was cold, and haughty from what I've been told, unable to live up to that reputation of her mother's, I'd say. Well, about three months ago, she vanished, without a word. The Founders sent people after her, but they never found her. Some say she's on the Continent somewhere.

"What a tragedy," said Edgar. "Her only child too."

"I wouldn't be so sympathetic if I were you," said Oswald. "From all accounts she was a spoiled little brat. Ravenclaw was hard on her, and there was little love lost between them when she got older. Of course, that's not to mention those rumours that Ravenclaw's Muggle husband wasn't the father. That  _friend_  of her mother's vanished around the same time the child started school, and that's when the problems started. It seems the girl's  _true_  father didn't stick around long enough to give a damn about her. So now she's gone wild, and gone off into the wilderness, and Ravenclaw's pining after her, blaming herself."

Edgar's eyes narrowed in suspicion here. "How do you know so much anyway?"

"Remember that Baron friend of my grandson's?" Oswald said, and Edgar nodded. "He was infatuated with the girl apparently. She's rejected him a dozen times already. Ravenclaw's sent him after her to bring her back. He stopped by our house before he headed to the Continent to search for her. He told us everything. That was about two months ago now. We haven't heard anything from him either."

"Well, good luck to him," said Edgar. "Hogwarts is in too fragile a position to be left with only two Founders."

"Even if she is found, there are some things that can't be mended," said Oswald shaking his head. He drained the last of his tankard. "Come on. I need some dragon liver for that boil potion of mine."

The two of them left, and Merlin remained seated, frozen, trying to process everything he had heard.

He didn't want to believe it, any of it. How could so much have gone wrong? Helena, cold and haughty? What had happened to that bright, inquisitive child he had taught to read? The one who loved to laugh? Helena would never have run away. She would never have done that to her mother.

But the more Merlin thought about it, the more painfully obvious it became. He remembered when Helena became upset, she had run off into the grounds and hid herself away for several hours with a book. She ran when afraid. What had happened between her and her mother to drive her to run so far?

Was it his fault? He had hoped Rowena would have stayed the same, would not have reverted to her old ways, but perhaps he had been naïve. Had she returned to the cold and reserved woman he had first met eighteen years ago? What would that have done to Helena? The loss of the man she knew as a father, her mother's sudden coldness, Salazar's departure three years later … what effect had that had on her?

He sat there for what felt like hours, wrestling with the pain in his heart and the reason in his mind. How had it all gone so wrong? How could Salazar and Helena abandon their home like that? And Rowena …

He wanted more than anything to go to her, to heal her of whatever it was that afflicted her. His mind told him no, he could not reopen past wounds like that, but his heart could not allow him to sit here when he could save her.

He stood up after hours of debating and headed out into the street, his mind made up. He had to do this. The Founders were destined for more than this. Rowena Ravenclaw did not deserve a fate such as this, such a brilliant and intelligent woman could not die of something as meagre as a broken heart. He could not believe it.

He summoned a great whirlwind around him as soon as he stepped out into the street, not even caring who saw him. All sense of rationality was gone from his mind. He needed to go to her. He needed to see her one last time. She couldn't end like this.

The winds abated, and Merlin found himself standing at the eaves of the Forbidden Forest, looking upon Hogwarts castle for the first time in ten years. He was shocked by how little had changed. After ten years away, ten years of pain, he almost expected the castle to be showing signs of his own torment, after all, had he not poured so much of himself into it? But it looked as strong and magnificent as ever. How could it look so unchanged when one, and now almost two of its Founders were gone for good?

He walked slowly up to the great doors, ignoring the screaming in his head to turn back and leave before it was too late. It was midsummer, and the school would be empty of pupils. He just had to see her. He had to find out just how everything could have gone so wrong.

He pushed open the doors and emerged into the dark Entrance Hall. It too looked as if no time had passed, deceptively beautiful, betraying none of the awful things that had, and still were happening.

No one came to meet him, not a house-elf noticed him passing through the corridors treading the familiar path to Ravenclaw Tower. He was oddly calm, despite the great misgivings within him, the rational part of his mind that told him to turn back. But as always, where Rowena, where this school was concerned, he was lost to reason.

He reached the old door with the bronze eagle knocker, and pushed it open, heading silently up the stairs like a shadow. In the living area, there were two figures asleep on couches, breathing quietly. A shock of red hair emerged from underneath a pile of blankets, and Merlin knew without uncovering the face that Godric was lying there. Helga lay stretched out on the other couch, her face lined with worry, not even peaceful in sleep. Their silent vigil outside the door of their closest friend.

 _Salazar should be here too,_ Merlin thought.  _So should Helena_.  _This isn't right. It should never have ended like this._

He stood watching them for several minutes, almost wanting them to wake up and discover him there. But too many questions would be asked, he could not speak to them. He almost smiled looking down at them. Despite the circumstances, he was glad to see them once more.

He was startled suddenly, by the opening of the door to Rowena's bedchambers. He hurriedly muttered a quick spell to make himself invisible. From within, Scáthach emerged, passing a gnarled hand over weary eyes, which were filled with tears. Merlin was shocked to see her like this, a formidable and intimidating woman, reduced to this most fragile of human weaknesses.

She was clutching an empty bowl and shuffled off and out of the living area, mumbling something to herself about getting more water. Merlin waited until he heard the door close, before quickly crossing the room and heading up the stairs, halting before the door to the room.

A great pain clutched at his insides. Did he want to go inside? He feared what he would see, what he would feel. But, he should not have left. If he was in any way responsible for what had happened, he had to see her again, to apologise. He could not explain it. He felt guilt, he felt pain.

He took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. He owed it to her.

The room was lit by a dying fire, and filled with the scent of various herbs and potions. He slowly crossed the room towards the large bed, almost afraid of what he would see. He stopped a few feet away, and let himself take in the sad scene, almost not believing what he saw.

Rowena was lying there, tiny in the massive bed, reminding him forcefully of that day eighteen years ago when he had first seen Helena, dying of the awful disease. But Rowena bore no outward signs of illness, no fever, no rash … she just slept, a small frown on her brow. Her face looked tired, and her frame was painfully small. The ten years had not been kind to her, there were a few grey hairs on her head, despite the fact she was not yet forty. She looked weary, like she had just given up.

Merlin watched her, his pain only increasing as he saw how shallow her breaths were. Had he caused this? Had he neglected her? Was all this his doing?

He collapsed into the chair that Scáthach had evidently just vacated and clutched at one of her hands, hoping to somehow reach out to her. Her skin was cold to the touch, and Merlin placed it between two of his, as though hoping to restore both warmth and life to the woman before him.

He hung his head over her hand and tried to compose himself. He should not have left … he should not have left …

"Emrys?"

A soft, hoarse and almost inaudible sound met his ears and he looked up immediately, to see Rowena looking at him, her blue eyes opened only slightly, blinking at him as though trying to decide whether or not he was an apparition.

"Yes," he said, his voice not as controlled as usual. "I am here."

"I have dreamt this before," she said, her voice still scarily weak. "How can I be sure?"

He rose from his seat, and gently sat himself on the bed beside her, touching his hand to her face. "I am real, Rowena. I am here with you."

"Why have you come back?" she asked, and he thought he detected a note of resentment in her weak voice. "Why torment me like this?"

"I had to see you again," he said softly, stroking her face softly. "I had no idea what was going on here. I am sorry. I … I should not have left. Everything seems to have gone wrong."

Rowena's eyes welled up with tears at this point. "She's gone," she said, a tear leaking out of her eye. "Helena … she's gone."

Merlin leaned in closer, and squeezed her hand. "What happened?"

"It was never the same after you left," she all but whispered. "Helena … I was distant with her … too distant. I forgot everything you taught me … I broke my promise to you, Emrys. I forgot who I was. I was cold, I was hard on her, I did not show her the love I felt … we grew apart. She resented me … she tried to better me at every turn … I was too reserved. I lost her."

She wrapped her own fingers around Merlin's. "I have lost her forever, Emrys," she said, tears now falling freely from her eyes, more than Merlin had ever seen from her before. "I will never see her again, my precious little girl … she is lost to me."

"No," Merlin said, feeling his composure breaking. "You will see her, I promise. I'll find her, I'll bring her back. I'll heal you somehow, I'll-"

"No," she said, shaking her head, softly. "I deserve this. And you cannot heal a broken heart, Emrys. I only regret that she is out in the world unaware just how much I truly loved her."

"She knows," Merlin said, trying to comfort her. "She loved you, Rowena. She cannot have forgotten that."

"But we did not reconcile," Rowena said, still crying silently. "I shall die without ever apologising to her for what I failed to do for her. She was right to run away, Emrys. I was a teacher to her, a mentor, not a mother. She resented me. She … she took my diadem, Emrys."

"She what?" Merlin asked, unable to believe it.

"She took my diadem," repeated Rowena, "the one you enchanted for me. I was never enough for her. I haven't even told the others this. She has been unhappy for so long. I did not guide her the way I should have."

"This is my fault," said Merlin, shaking his head, feeling his own eyes go watery. "I should not have left."

"No," she said, and here, her voice was a little firmer. "I understand now, Emrys. The Old Religion has let me see that. It was own fault. I was not strong enough."

"You are the strongest person I know," Merlin said, still clutching at her hand.

"Only with you," she said, staring at him, her breath growing shallower. "You taught me how to live, Emrys, but I forgot it all as soon as you left. You made me stronger, you made me a better person. I should not have forgotten it all."

Merlin did not know what to say. He had so hoped when he had left all those years ago that she would find the strength to carry on as the independent and capable woman he knew she was.

"You made me stronger too," he admitted to her. "You stopped me feeling so wretched about my destiny. I've been a mess these last ten years."

"That makes two of us," said Rowena sadly. "I resented the world and the Old Religion for taking you from me, and I lost my way. Then Salazar … Salazar … he left, and all hope seemed lost. And now Helena …"

She laughed softly, still crying silently. "I always prided myself on my strength, my superiority and control over my emotions," she said. "But I am just as subject to them as everyone else, despite my best efforts to deny it. It is a fitting end for someone who has avoided feeling all of these years, to fall prey to the very things I have tried to deny. I am not as strong as I thought I was, as I would have others to believe me. And now Hogwarts shall fall, and it shall be my fault."

"No," Merlin said loudly. "I will not let it fall, Rowena. This school shall last, I shall make sure of it. For all eternity."

She smiled weakly. "For all eternity, Emrys? What happens when your destiny catches up with you? Our little school shall not see so important then."

"The Old Religion had me come here for a reason," he said, caressing her face softly, seeing the colour leave her cheeks. "This school is important, more than either of us yet know. I will not let it fall. There was a reason I was brought here, my destiny is tied up with this school. The Old Religion shall return to the world, and this school and its Founders will have played their part in it. I will not let the world forget you, nor the sacrifices you all made."

She smiled. "And why is it you are the one to return this magic? Why were you chosen for this task? Why you, the one with the name from legend?"

"I will tell you, if you wish," he said, before realising what he was saying, his desperation growing as her grip on his hand grew weaker and weaker. "I will tell you everything."

But, amazingly, she shook her head. "No," she said, her voice almost inaudible. "What does it matter now? I have finally realised: what use is knowledge in the end? After you left I spent so long obsessing over who you were and why you had to leave that I neglected all else. Besides, I think I have already guessed."

She smiled at him, and for the tiniest moment, he thought he saw a glimmer of all her old wit and intelligence. He felt his heart grow heavier. Did she know? Had she really figured it out?

But he did not ask her what her guess was, it wasn't important. He held on tighter to her hand.

"I never thought there would be a day when you would willingly refuse knowledge."

"And I never thought I'd see the day when you would once more be by my side," Rowena said, smiling again. "I have lost everything, my school, my life, my daughter … my one comfort is that you can be here with me one last time."

"I won't leave," he promised, raising her hand and kissing it gently. "I will stay with you."

"Good," she sighed, closing her eyes wearily. "I have spent so much time alone in my life."

"I am here," he said, and he clutched her hand ever tighter. She smiled one last time, and settled back into her pillows.

He sat by her side for what felt like forever, as her hand grew colder, and her breath shallower. He stared without blinking, without moving, watching as the life slowly drained out of her. Finally, her breathing stopped.

Merlin closed his eyes, even as he felt the Old Religion cry out inside of him in great tumult. He was shaking with emotions he could no longer suppress. He opened his eyes, and saw her lying there, her face almost peaceful. He stood up, his legs ready to collapse underneath him. He laid her hand back on the bed, by her side. He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, like he had done the day he left ten years ago. Then, he leaned in and whispered into her ear.

"Merlin," he said, as a single tear fell from his eye. "My real name … it's Merlin."

But she did not stir, she did not respond. He fell back on the chair. He sat there for he knew not how long. A great emptiness seemed to fill him. This could not have happened. Not Rowena … not that strong woman … she could not have wasted away like that.

He sat there, in complete shock, letting the despair and grief wash over him.  _Well_ , he thought wryly to himself,  _it was going to happen some day, you always knew that. That was the risk you took_.

He barely even noticed the door open. There was a soft cry, and Merlin saw Scáthach cross to the bed, her face haggard, dropping a bowl of water on the floor as she clutched at the still Rowena. She sobbed loudly, pressing Rowena into her chest, stroking her hair.

"No," she moaned, in Gaelic. "Not my child … I nursed you from a babe into a girl and into a woman … you weren't supposed to go before me …"

Merlin said nothing, how could he? Scáthach did not even look at him, sobbing unrestrainedly, clutching Rowena's body close to her own, as though hoping to restore the life to it with her presence. He felt as though he was looking at all this from a great distance.

He had to leave, he decided, still reeling. He could not linger … he did not belong here anymore. Two of the Founders were now gone, he had failed them, like he had once failed Arthur. He had to leave. He no longer felt welcome here.

He stood to leave, unable to look once more at Rowena, and headed towards the door as though in some awful dream he could not awaken from.

"She loved you, you know."

Merlin turned in astonishment, to see Scáthach looking at him from over the top of Rowena's dark head, her eyes bright with tears and a buried anger and grief. Merlin suddenly realised that this was the first time Scáthach had ever spoken to him.

"I know," he said, his voice as pained as hers had been. "I know."

And once more, he turned, and this time did not look back. He stumbled down the stairs, his mind racing. He crossed the living room, past Helga and Godric's sleeping forms, unable to even glance at them, and emerged once more into the dark corridors. He moved along them, feeling the emptiness inside threatening to overwhelm him.

He did not stop until he was once more outside, standing beside the lake, at almost the exact spot where he had felt the Old Religion telling him to leave. He breathed out, and looked out across the lake, for once completely immune to its beauty. It seemed wrong to him that the grounds still looked so perfect, so wondrous. Did the world not know what tragedy had just occurred? The thing he had worked for for eight years was now in ruins, one Founder had forsaken their mission, and another had died after just … giving up on life. This was not the way it was supposed to be.

Salazar and Rowena … they had deserved better than this.

Especially Rowena …

He stood there for ages, a silent immovable pillar, trying to comprehend the weight of what had just happened. What did this mean for Hogwarts? For everything they had believed in? Was it all memory now? Would Hogwarts be over before even a generation had passed?

The Old Religion … it was a curse … it was a torture …. it was hard for him to now see any good in it. Why did he want it to return so badly? These past three centuries, what had it given him except pain, pain, and now even more pain?

What was the point in anything anymore?

"Emrys?"

As though he had been expecting it, the sound of Helga's soft voice did not surprise him in the slightest. He turned slowly to see her standing a few feet behind him, a soft golden cloak wrapped around her disheveled clothes. Her face was wet with tears.

"Helga," he said, shocked that his voice was so calm.

She blinked fiercely, even as more tears spilled from her eyes. "Emrys … it's … it's … Rowena … she's … she's … "

"I know," he said, the pain in his heart now so intense he was almost numb to it. "I was there with her."

For a moment, Helga looked angry.

"You were? But why did you not wake me?"

"Because … I … I …I," Merlin trailed away, unable to express what he felt in words, he heard his voice beginning to shake.

Helga's angry glare diminished and she nodded, more tears trickling from her eyes. "I understand," she said. "You and she …"

He looked away, unable to stand the sympathy in her eyes. He should not have left her … he did not deserve this.

She wiped away some of her tears. "We expected it for some time," Helga said, her voice trembling. "But that makes it no less painful. She just … gave up, after Helena disappeared. But she's been unhappy for years. Ever since …"

"Ever since I left," he finished for her. "I know … I should not have left."

"You did what you had to," she said, though more tears threatened to spill over. "I do not blame you, and at heart, I do not think she did either. You had your destiny … and we had ours."

"It does not make me feel any better," Merlin said, not even saying half of what he felt.

"No," Helga said, stepping a little closer. "I would imagine not. Pain like this can never be diminished. But know this … she loved you, Emrys."

"So Scáthach tells me," Merlin said, avoiding her gaze, trying to keep his emotions under check.

"You did not need Scáthach to tell you that," Helga said, stepping even closer. "You knew she loved you, loved you as much as you loved her."

"I never-"

"She knew it," said Helga firmly, not allowing him to contradict her. "You both did, even if neither of you admitted it to each other, or even to yourselves. Maybe you thought it would cause you less pain."

"Well, that did not work," Merlin said ruefully, letting his emotions finally get the better of him. "Did I love her? Perhaps I did, and even now try to avoid admitting it, for what use is it to do so now, when the pain shall overwhelm me? We shared eight years together, and we were happy, that is all that mattered. It does not matter whether I loved her or not, she is gone, and I am left."

"But that memory of that love shall remain with you," said Helga, now so close he could see the lines in her face from the ten years apart. "Do not make the mistake she did and try to forget about what you shared. Do not hide away from it, do not forsake your destiny, but take strength from this, and do not forget her, or any of this, even if it does cause you pain. Because with great love, great pain inevitably follows. But that does not make the love any less worthwhile. Do not forget this, Emrys, do not forget how powerful love can be. Never forget, for however many centuries you may live."

For a moment, Merlin did not realise what Helga had just said. Then, he stared, his heart gone cold.

"Wh-What?"

"I am not a fool, Emrys," Helga said, wiping away another tear and managing a small smile. "It is eighteen years since first we met, and you have not aged a single day. You practice magic that died out centuries ago, and you run from your past and dread the future. You are long-lived, perhaps even immortal, and that is why you left. To avoid the pain of seeing us all grow old and die. I know it to be true, I have always seen the haunted looks in your eye when you think of your past, and we all spoke of the future."

He thought of contradicting her, but decided instead to give a small smile.

"And everyone said Rowena was the smart one," he said sadly. "They always underestimate you, Helga."

She smiled weakly. "As long as you do not underestimate yourself, Emrys. There is great pain in your future, I can tell. But there is hope yet."

"Is there?" he asked. "I cannot see it."

"But I am a Seer," Helga said, her eyes dry and determined. "I saw into the future of this school, Emrys. What I saw, I am not sure, but you were there. You were there defending this school."

"Defending it, from what?" he asked.

"There was a great battle," she said, her eyes gazing into the distance. "Hogwarts was falling. Men in black robes and masks were attacking children, bodies were lying everywhere, spells filled the air, there was screaming … fear … evil in the school. And you were there … in the middle of this battle, looking the same as you do now."

She frowned slightly. "I saw a man. He was pale, with red eyes, and a cruel face. He was evil, he meant harm to the school. And … a boy."

"A boy?" Merlin asked, listening avidly. "What boy?"

"I do not know," said Helga, shaking her head, and looking thoughtful. "He was young. He had dark hair … and a cut shaped like a bolt of lightning on his forehead. In him I sensed great power … love, kindness, bravery … I sensed the Old Religion. This boy … he is the one you are waiting for, Emrys. You must find him."

"When?" Merlin asked desperately, "this vision, when did it take place? How long do I have to wait?"

"I do not know," said Helga, coming back into focus, and looking upset. "I could not tell. But I fear … it is many years from now."

"Of course it is," Merlin spat, turning away, and kicking a stone angrily, sending it splashing into the lake. "The Old Religion never makes it easy. It is playing with me. This boy might not be born for a millennium. How much pain will I endure until then?"

"As much as is needed," said Helga, coming to him and pulling his hand into hers. "It is cruel, I know. But you know as well as I do that this cannot be fought, in which case, it must be accepted. Accept it, Emrys, make peace with your destiny, or you shall destroy yourself in the way that Rowena did. You have something to live for, live for it, and never give up. Remember all that happened here, and take that love with you and keep it strong. This boy shall need you one day, and I swear, if you give up and abandon him I shall haunt you the rest of your days. Hope is not lost, Emrys. You will have a life of your own one day. You will help bring happiness to others the way you did for us, even if it was only fleeting. These people will need your guidance the way we did."

"But I failed with you four," said Merlin, staring at her sad but still warm eyes. "Salazar is gone, Rowena is dead … it did not last."

"The ideas shall remain, Emrys," said Helga. "They shall not die, not completely. We would not have been where we are today without you."

She held up their entwined hands to show him the light wedding band on her left hand. She smiled.

"Godric and I married not long after you left. Now we have two children. You helped bring us together, Emrys. Not everything was a failure."

And for the first time that evening, Merlin felt a glimmer of true happiness. "I am sure they are as wonderful as their mother."

Helga smiled, though the smile was still tinged with sadness. "I only hope I do not lose them as Rowena lost Helena."

The pain was back. "They never got to reconcile," he said, shaking his head. "Why did she not return when her mother was dying?"

At this Helga let out a fresh stream of tears that surprised him. "Helena lost her way …" Helga said, her grief evident in her voice. "They were too similar … too stubborn … she forgot the innocence and curiosity of her youth and instead became arrogant and competitive. And now she is … now she is dead."

"Dead?" Merlin said, feeling a wrenching feeling in his gut. "What do you mean?"

Helga pressed a handkerchief to her eyes, almost unable to speak through her tears. "We- we," she began, trying to bring her grief under control. "We received a letter this morning from friends Helena had been living with somewhere down on the Adriatic coast. The Baron that Rowena asked go to find her … he tried to force her to return, and she ran away into a forest. Her friends discovered her the following morning. The Baron … he … he stabbed her … and then apparently took his own life out of shame. We … we just couldn't find a way to tell Rowena … we didn't know if we should …"

Helga cried some more, but Merlin could make no move to comfort her. He was staggered by the news that Helena … that sweet little girl he had helped to raise, the girl so curious about the world and everything in it, the girl he had taught to read, taught to play tricks on Salazar, who had loved playing with house-elves and eating Hilda's cakes whenever she got the chance ... she was dead. Murdered.

The entire Ravenclaw family was dead. And these were the first deaths since Arthur's that had caused him to feel  _this_ much grief,  _this_  much agony. He had been so unreserved and free with them. He had dropped his guard.

And now he was paying the price for all those happy years, that borrowed time he had so selfishly leapt upon.

He would not make that mistake again.

With an effort so strong he had not known he'd had it in him, he pushed back the grief, let go of the pain he felt. He could not surrender to it.

Helga stopped crying and looked up at him, nodding sadly. "This will be the last time we meet," she said, and it was not a question, more a statement. "All I ask is that you do not forget this, Emrys. One day, you shall find the happiness that you deserve, and it will be worth it. Protect this school, protect that boy, whoever he is. Do not give up on the Old Religion, no matter how painful it becomes. We were not the ones you were waiting on, Emrys. But we are a part of you now, do not forget it."

"I won't," he promised her.

She nodded, and turned slowly on the spot, and headed back into the castle without another word. He watched her go, her figure slowly disappearing until out of sight. He knew he would never see her again.

He looked up at the window to Ravenclaw Tower. He would return here one day, to this castle. He would not let people forget the Founders, he would not let himself forget. It was like what he had told Salazar all those years ago. They might not have saved everyone immediately, but they had begun it, and Merlin were certainly going to stick around and see the fruits of this labour and their suffering. Because they would come, some day, and he would be ready for it.

He walked towards the Forbidden Forest, getting ready to Transport away again, not willing to stay even another moment longer in this place that now held so many painful memories.

Yes, he would return, but not yet. This wasn't like Camelot; irreparable, gone and in the past. He had a chance here, hope was not yet lost. He would not let the same thing happen again. Hogwarts would flourish, he would make sure of that, if he had to bribe his way onto the Board of Governors himself. He would not give up in the way he had so often thought of doing.

He thought he understood now why he had been brought here. He had forgotten the sound of laughter, and the joy friends could bring to life. He had experienced that again, thanks to the Old Religion. And though he bought it with great pain, he would remember it, remember what he could one day have again. However long it took, however many centuries, he wouldn't give up.

And then there was that boy in Helga's vision. Merlin had no idea who he was, but he knew he was important. He would wait for him. After all, how many boys were there with lightning bolt scars?

He smiled to himself, despite the numbness that still lay within. His time at Hogwarts had reminded him of who he had been, reminded him of what it was he was fighting for, reminded him of the destiny he had so often thought of forsaking.

Now, he had a new purpose.

And he had every intent to carry it out.


End file.
